


Captain Coffee

by Neverever



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Evil Corporations, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is content managing his own coffee shop and life is full with friends and neighbors. But an owner of big coffee chain pressures him to sell and someone from his past reappears. And now Steve needs to fight a bully, an ex, and himself to get his happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Day Like Every Other

Steve knew it was going to be great day as he opened Captain Coffee promptly at six in the morning one late January Saturday. He began the morning set-up, brewing coffee, filling the espresso machine, checking on the bottled juice selection. Bruce knocked on the back door to be let in with the morning pastry and baked goods order. He loaded up the display cases while Steve started to wait on the early morning exercise crowd. 

Bruce and Steve worked well together like a well-oiled machine during the brisk morning shift. Bruce was kept busy working the coffee brewers and espresso machine while Steve cheerfully manned the registers and tended to the customers. One of the regulars, Jessica stopped by for a coffee and scone on her way home after yoga. Steve handed over the cup and bag and asked, “We haven’t seen Carol here for a couple of days.”

Jess sighed, “She just started flying a new route to Africa so her schedule is a bit unsettled for now.”

“Let her know we miss her,” Steve said. 

The morning rush died down around ten and Janet showed up for her lunch and afternoon shift. When Steve came back from his early lunch break, Bruce clocked out and told Steve that he would be back shortly with the rest of the day’s baked good order. The day was moving along just like clockwork, the way Steve liked it. A little planning matched with a lot of hard work meant efficient delivery of very good coffee and that was always good for business, Steve thought with satisfaction.

Janet and Steve surveyed the late Saturday morning crowd, a nice collection of the regulars, some college kids doing a group project, and a couple of new customers. Janet asked, “So anything new, boss?”

“Peter will be starting later today.” He had hired a high school kid to help out with the after school and weekend shifts. “He just moved from Queens.”

Steve swept up the floor and bussed tables after the lunch rush. He had outfitted Captain Coffee with comfortable couches and chairs, nicely sized tables for working or studying, free Wi-fi, and good lighting. He had hung framed artwork on the walls from local artists, including a couple of his own older pieces. He had put a lot of love and hard work into the place after he bought the business more than four years ago. In a short time, Captain Coffee had become a beloved neighborhood institution just on the edge of the more fashionable Williamsburg.

He greeted Bucky warmly when he dropped by for a coffee. Steve suspected that Bucky was really there hoping to see Natasha before she started the evening shift. Gathered around the pick-up counter, Bucky, Steve, and Janet talked for a while about a lame nightclub Janet had gone to the night before. Then Peter rushed through the door, concerned that he was late for his first day on the job.

“Whoa there,” Steve said with a smile. “You’re on time. Come on back.” He directed the nervous teenager to the back office. “I’ll catch you later, Buck.”

After explaining how to record time worked, where the staff lockers were, policies, and other work details, Steve introduced Peter to Janet. “Jan generally works afternoon and evening shifts so you’ll probably work with her the most. Natasha will be coming in later,” Steve explained.

“Hiya, kid,” Jan said cheerfully. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent training Peter on the register and waiting on a steady stream of regulars and a few new customers. Jane, who was a researcher at Empire State, came by with her boyfriend Thor. Thor was a meteorologist and storm chaser so he was often traveling. They curled up on one of the couches, lost in each other. Bobbi from the neighborhood was holding court with her friends in a corner. There was a woman with two small children playing a game at a table near the front. As Steve thought that morning, it was turning out to be a very good day.

The only cloud on the horizon was an unexpected visit from Johann Schmidt. Steve was fiddling with the settings on a milk frother when Janet nudged him. Steve frowned, ran his hand through his hair and turned to face his adversary. 

A tall, solid man in a long black wool coat and black leather gloves, Johann asked bluntly, “Have you given any thought to my offer?” 

Steve twisted a towel in his hands and said firmly, “No, I’m not selling.”

“Steven, Steven, I’m making you a very fair offer for your business.” Johann looked around the shop with unveiled contempt. “Imperial Coffee has a lot of resources and you are just one coffee shop among many.”

Steve knew he was managing to break even every month. Even if Johann’s offer had been realistic, Steve still loved working at his own store. “Still not interested.”

“I’ll give you some more time to reconsider. You will regret turning this opportunity down.”

“You do that, Johann. I’m not going to change my mind,” Steve stated firmly.

After Johann stalked out of the store, Peter asked, “What’s Imperial Coffee?”

Steve muttered darkly, “Imperial Coffee has average chain-style coffee and uninspired baked goods.”

Jan jumped in. “It’s a chain of about ten shops, mostly in Manhattan. Johann wants to get into Williamsburg so he’s been asking Steve to sell for the past couple of months.”

Peter seemed very worried about the idea. Putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder, Steve smiled and said warmly, “Peter, I’m not going to sell this store to anyone at any time. Your job is safe. I wouldn’t have hired you if I wasn’t keeping the place.”

Jan had to talk Steve into taking a break since he had been working for more than four hours straight without stopping. While he was away, Peter turned to Jan and asked, “What’s the deal with Steve?”

She stopped flipping through her fashion magazine. “Steve is just a really good guy and a sweetheart. He’s great to work for, although he can be demanding at times. But show up on time, do your job, he’ll treat you right.”

Peter nodded.

“Another thing -- he lives upstairs in one of the upstairs apartments so he’s always around if you need him. Or if you don’t,” she said with a wink. “He always finds out if you goof off or make a mistake.”

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something, a hobby at least?”

“Steve keeps to himself,” Janet replied. She frowned a little. “He doesn’t get out as much as he should. I’ve always thought that there’s a story there. Bucky or Sam would know, but they don’t talk about him or whatever happened,” she added. Then she confided, “I’ve asked but they’re just tight lipped.”

After his fifteen minute break, Steve returned to the counter. Jan would be ending her shift soon and on cue Natasha came in. She had spent the morning teaching ballet and dance classes to kids but she worked shifts at the coffee shop for extra money. Janet teased her, “Bucky came by this afternoon.”

Natasha shook her head and said, “Oh, come on. He’s always around since he’s Steve’s friend and thinks he can get free coffee.”

“None so blind as she who will not see,” Janet shot back. “Nat, he’s seriously hot, and he’s just aching for a little of your attention.” Natasha laughed and disappeared into the back to get for her shift.

Just after six, and shortly before Steve left for dinner and a long break, a slim strawberry blonde woman sharply dressed placed an order for three coffees to go. Steve let Peter handle the order but kept a careful eye on him. The woman asked pleasantly, “New at this?”

Peter nodded. “Just started this afternoon.”

“You’re doing great,” she replied.

Steve rang her order up and placed a couple of business cards in the cup tray. “In case you plan to come back – we have a loyalty program. With ten orders, a free muffin and medium coffee.”

“Thanks,” she said.

After she left, Steve turned to Peter. “You’ve had a good first day, Peter. You’ll work with Natasha for the next hour and a half and I’ll see you Tuesday after school.”

As Steve climbed the stairs to his apartment, he reflected on the day. He would return to the shop later until close. And then start all over again in the morning. He heated up some leftovers in the microwave, opened a beer and sat on the window sill, looking out over the neighborhood in the winter landscape.

Sam texted him to remind him about meeting at a bar tomorrow to watch a playoff game. Steve knew Sam was going to give him a hard time about working so hard and not taking a break or working on the art. Memories of sparkling brown eyes, the warm press of a hand in his, and dashed hopes and dreams intruded on his thoughts. But all that was in the distant past now. Maybe things would have been different once, but his present life was full of friends and work and he was finally on an even keel. He sipped some of the beer. Yeah, he was content with the way things were now.

 

Happy in the town car picked up Pepper waiting on the corner with the coffee order. Once in the car and the coffee distributed, she asked, “So, Tony, why did we come out here all the way to Brooklyn to get coffee when we just flew in from California this morning?”

Tech mogul Tony Stark sipped his coffee and checked his phone for texts. “I used to live around here about five years ago. And hung out in that coffee shop designing and coding.” He looked at the coffee cup emblazoned with the logo Captain Coffee. “It was called something different back then.”

Pepper smiled at Tony. “I didn’t think you were sentimental.”

“I’m not. So who waited on you?”

“A nice high school kid and a very good looking blond man.”

“Sounds like new management,” Tony said distantly. “Happy, take us back to the apartment. Pepper looks like she could use a break.”

While Happy drove the car back to Manhattan, Tony thought maybe Steve was still at the coffee shop after all these years. He wondered what Steve would say if he just showed up on his doorstep or if he would tell Tony to get the hell out of his shop. Maybe he should make the effort to find out. Maybe not. It had been a long time since Steve was in his life. But Tony was filled with memories he just couldn’t shake out of his head. New York always did that to him.


	2. And So It Begins

“Ask her out, man,” Sam said to Bucky on a slow Wednesday night at the coffee shop. They were sitting on the couches near the counter. “It’s painful to watch you off your game.”

Bucky swung one arm over the back of the couch and tapped his knee with his prosthetic arm. An IED ended his career as a Marine sniper and now he was starting college at Empire State. “Natasha is different.”

“When has that ever stopped you, Bucky?” Steve said, putting mugs on the table in front of them. He pulled over a chair and sat down.

“I am not taking romantic advice from you, Mr. Never-Goes-Out,” Bucky stated firmly.

“Steve’s right. Three months ago, you were juggling three women. And now, all you do is sit around and gawk at Natasha,” Sam said. He sipped his coffee and one cream.

“Valentine’s is coming up,” Steve suggested. Janet and he had spent part of the day putting together little holiday gift bags and baskets of coffee items and Captain Coffee gift certificates.

“Right. A first date on the ‘most romantic day’ of the year,” Bucky said sarcastically with finger quotes. “Like I need the pressure.”

Sam laughed hard. “You’ve got it bad, Buck. Look, how about you ask Natasha to join me, Leila and Steve at a bar this weekend?”

Steve did a double-take. “You’re including me in this?”

Sam and Bucky exchanged looks. “You need to get out, Steve. I can’t remember the last time I saw you outside the coffee shop. Hell, I bet you haven’t even left the building for the past few days,” Bucky said.

“I get out. I went to the gym this afternoon. And then I had errands …” Steve started. God, that sounds pathetic, Steve thought. And clearly his friends thought that too from the expressions on their faces.

Bucky patted his arm. And Sam said, “We’ll find a Steve-friendly bar for you.”

“This plan depends on you asking Nat out. So you have your mission,” Steve pointed out.

Bucky had a speculative look on his face. “Never bet against me, guys, you know better.”

 

The next day, Steve woke up too late for a morning run, or otherwise he would have seen the store windows first thing. One quick breakfast later, he went downstairs to start work. Something was completely wrong, he thought as he turned on the lights in the shop on his way to opening for the day.

He couldn’t see out the windows because they were somehow completely blocked. Unlocking the front door, he rushed out to see what was wrong. All the windows were coated in thick red paint from top to bottom and from side to side. Whoever had done this had managed to paint the windows and then dry the paint in the middle of the night in winter. It was serious work done by serious people, taking advantage of the second floor apartment facing the street being empty and loud street noise. The painted over windows made it look like Captain Coffee was closed. 

Steve spent the next few hours talking to the landlord, dealing with the police department about filing a report and consulting his insurance agent. All of which meant that he couldn’t help Bruce deal with the regular weekday customers. And all the customers were curious about what happened and constantly bombarded Bruce with questions as he struggled to handle both filling the orders and working the register. That made for one very cranky and nearly murderous Bruce by the end of his shift. It was going to take Steve a few days to coax Bruce back into some sort of mood equilibrium, which meant that Steve would need to shoulder nearly all the customer service work and let Bruce meditate through baking.

Fortunately the police came by to take a report mid-afternoon when Janet and Natasha were on shift. He gave them coffee while they inspected the windows. One of the officers asked, “Do you think this was a prank of some sort, maybe the local college students?”

Steve ran his hand through his hair as he carefully considered the painted-over windows. “Maybe.”

The other officer asked, “Is there someone, anyone, that wants to cause you harm?”

Steve thought back to Johann and the conversation last Saturday. Yet this didn’t seem like something Johann would do. Steve said, “I’m not sure. I can’t think of anyone.” Probably was the college kids or high schoolers.

“We’ll see what we can find out, but no promises, Steve,” the officer said. 

As expected, Bucky stopped by. He listened with concern as Steve updated him about the windows. “Sure it was college kids?”

“I don’t know, Bucky. I can pay you to strip the paint off the windows, if you want the work.” Steve had decided against filing on his insurance since his deductible was so high. He and Bucky could do the work as good as and cheaper than hiring workmen to do it.

Bucky thought for a minute. “I could do that. I’m mostly free the next few days.” He picked up his cup from the table, where he had been using a gossip magazine for a coaster. Bucky looked at the magazine with a frown. “Guess Tony made the cover again,” he grumbled.

Steve glanced at the magazine to see the small picture of “Tony Stark, The Accidental Millionaire” in a corner. “Yeah, I saw on the internet that he’s moved back to New York.”

“Hmph,” Bucky snorted. “If I never see him again, it will be too soon.” He knocked back his coffee. “You haven’t heard from him, right?” he asked, with a touch of worry hidden in his tone.

Steve shrugged. Then Janet called him to the register to help with a customer before Bucky could ask any more questions.

 

In a very stylish office in a Manhattan skyscraper, near the end of the day, Tony was heading to a charity dinner. On his way, he reminded Pepper about finding a way to use Captain Coffee for an office caterer when possible.

Pepper replied, “They’re located in Brooklyn, Tony, and we’re in Manhattan. There are plenty of local caterers if we needed them.”

“Humor me on this, okay, Pep?” 

She straightened his bowtie and stepped back. Tony always looked spectacular in a well-tailored suit. “So what’s so special about their coffee?”

“It’s the logo. Cartoony army guy with a coffee mug. What’s not to like?”

“Okay. Off you go. See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be coming in late, but I promise I won’t miss that eleven o’clock meeting.” 

After Tony left for the dinner, Pepper went back into his office to find the paperwork he signed so she could leave for the day. Having worked for Tony for four years now, she thought she was able to handle his mercurial moods fairly well. But, for some reason, he’d been moodier than ever since they had stopped by that coffee shop in Brooklyn nearly a week ago. Maybe it was the move to New York or the amount of work at hand. Stark Industries was an up-and-coming tech company and Tony was much in demand these days.

She swept up the stack of papers she needed from the desk. Something fell to the floor, which turned out to be a photo. She thought it strange that Tony would even keep a photographic print. Everything he had was digitized, computer files, books, music, pictures, everything. It was a four-photo strip, probably from a booth from a carnival or amusement park. In the top three photos Tony was smiling broadly, his arm around a very happy blond man, and in the last, he was kissing the man. She recognized the blond from the coffee shop. Turning over the strip, she saw a brief inscription, “Tony and Steve, first anniversary,” in unfamiliar handwriting.

Carefully setting the photo strip back on the desk, Pepper thought, wow, there was a lot more to that story about the coffee shop than the logo. She doubted she could get the whole story out of Tony. Maybe she’d ask Rhodey when he was in town. He’d known Tony forever.

 

That night after work, Steve debated whether he should take his clothes off before bed or just fall into bed fully dressed. For some reason, the coffee shop had been insanely busy. And dealing with his landlord, the insurance agent, and the police over the shop windows had drained him. He summoned up the energy to brush his teeth and strip down to his underwear.

Before settling into bed, he checked his phone for messages in case there was a problem with the morning shift. There was a message and he silently prayed that it was not Bruce.

But it was far worse than he could have imagined. Of all the people in the world, it was Tony. A very drunk Tony. 

“Steve, Steeeevveee. Hey, Captain Coffee. How’s the hottest guy in Brooklyn doing these days? What’s up?” slurred Tony. “I’m here. In New York. Stevie, hon, pick up. You would not believe what I’m doing right now.” He laughed. “I’m in a limo with all of these amazing people. Say hi to Stevie, all you people.” Steve heard a lot of shouts in the background before Tony came back on the phone. “Hello, hel-lo, Stevie! Maybe, maybe we should come by and pick you up, Steve. Steve, wanna come out and play? Steve. Come on. Screening my calls now, hot stuff? Oh, man, and I’m leaving such a special message for you ….”

Steve sighed and quickly deleted the long, drunken voicemail. He could handle vandalism, but he was not up for dealing with a drunk Tony, now or ever.

He wasn’t paying attention to the voicemail directions so he was surprised when another voicemail from Tony played.

“Hi, Steve. Look, I know it’s been a long time since we talked. Hope you are doing well – fantastic – terrific. I’ve been thinking of you and when I last saw you. You know, Malibu is kind of – it’s not New York, that’s for sure -- and things, um, things, haven’t been – well, I’ve had some really bad news – and I can’t think of anyone talk to about it but you. I mean, I have Rhodey – remember Rhodey? – but he’s not you. There’s Pepper also – I should tell you about this amazing woman, Pepper, who works for me. But, yeah, back to you. Do you think about me, Steve? Ever? Call me. Please.”

Steve gasped. He thought he had deleted that voicemail last year after Tony left it. He had been gutted when he first heard the message. At that point he hadn’t heard from Tony in nearly four years, and then Tony called him out of the blue with that strange message. And now he called again when he was drunk and needy. Hearing Tony’s old, rambling message, Steve was wrecked all over again.

He had never called back last year. Just thinking of Tony felt like a dull carving knife slicing into his heart, carving into old wounds never truly healed. He hated how Tony could still make him feel so much pain after all the years. And he really needed to change his number. 

He turned off the phone without deleting Tony’s message.


	3. Old Memories

During Friday afternoon, Clint and Steve were trying out recipes for complex coffee drinks. Steve shifted through a sheaf of notes and suggested, “Maybe we should use more cinnamon with that? Or maybe nutmeg?”

Clint spooned a little more cinnamon into the coffee. He tasted it and passed the mug over to Steve. “Now it tastes like mud with extra cinnamon,” he replied.

Steve sighed. “We’ll have to start over.” He poured out the mug. “Hey, I was wondering, would you be free to pick up a few morning shifts?”

Clint smiled broadly. “Would I? That’d be great. But, wait, what happened to Bruce?” Clint -- who was also known as Natasha’s roommate -- supported himself by cobbling together part-time work at the shop and security guard shifts.

“He can’t deal with customers right now. So he’s going to focus on the baking and catering orders.”

Just then Jan ran in, shaking the snow off her tailored yellow wool coat. “Sorry about being late, Steve.” 

“Go ahead and clock in. Clint and I are working on specials and we could use your help.”

When Jan came back to the counter decked out in her apron and name tag, she was glowing. “So I met a boy today,” she said cheerfully. 

“What’s so special about this guy as opposed to the thousand other special guys?” Clint asked as he handed her a mug.

Jan took a sip. “Oh, that’s awful,” she said with a grimace and dumped the contents of the mug into the sink. “No, Hank is different. He’s smart, and interesting, and very cute. Oh, and he researches ants.” She pulled out her phone to show Steve and Clint pictures of her latest flame. “Steve, the sandwich board out front is chained to the building. What’s up with that?”

Steve said, “Someone stole the one I put out this morning. I didn’t want to lose a second one. Especially with the windows still covered.”

Jan thought for a second. “First the windows, and now the sandwich board … I’ve never seen that type of vandalism around here before,” she observed.

“I know, but people have messed with the sign before,” Steve replied. He mixed up another round of coffee drinks.

Changing the topic, Jan asked, “So, Clint, what are your plans this weekend? Because I have plans, big plans. With Hank, if anyone wants to know.”

“I’m covering for Natasha,” Clint said. “She’s going out with Bucky and Steve tomorrow night.”

Jan looked intrigued. “So what is it? A date with Bucky or ‘let’s drag Steve out of here’ plan?”

“A little of both,” Steve admitted. He put out two mugs for Jan and Clint. “How does that taste?”

They both sipped. “This is great, Steve, I can taste the cinnamon but it’s not overpowering,” Jan enthused. “So where are you going?”

“To a Steve-friendly bar, according to Natasha,” Clint said. “Hm, Jan’s right, Steve. This is terrific.” He drank the rest of the coffee.

“Steve-friendly?” Jan asked.

“Sam started that in college. Refers to bars where food and drinks are reasonably priced, good music, bisexual accepting, that sort of thing,” Steve explained as he jotted down the coffee recipe. 

“But, Steve, you’re finally getting out of the shop and going somewhere,” Jan said, patting his arm. “So promise me you’ll dress in something in other than your coffee shop clothes. Do you even own regular clothes?”

“I’ll be fine, Jan,” Steve said with a smile. “Ok, team, we’ve got to come up with names for the specials also. Any ideas?”

Clint groaned. Jan bumped his shoulder. “At least we’re not trying out summer iced coffee drinks.”

“Right. That’s next week,” Steve said.

 

Now that he was under pressure, Bucky delivered. After the end of Natasha’s shift, Steve watched Bucky approach her as she was on her way out. It wasn’t often that the ever-cocky Bucky appeared to be bashful around a woman, but Natasha clearly made him go weak at the knees. Steve didn’t hear what Bucky actually said. But Natasha smiled, pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, and nodded while Bucky talked to her. Then she briefly touched his arm and left. Turning, Bucky flashed a thumb’s up to Steve.

Sam had found a new neighborhood bar that had recently opened a couple of streets over from the coffee shop. Saturday night the group claimed a corner table and Steve ordered a round of beer for the group. Natasha told stories about her job at the dance school and from when she had worked as a professional dancer. Bucky updated Steve, Sam, and Sam’s girlfriend Leila about his university classes this semester. Sam, as usual, didn’t want to talk about his social worker job. A couple of hours into the evening, Sam and Leila were constantly flirting with each other and Bucky and Natasha had opened negotiations about going out again. Even Steve had to admit he was having a great time with his friends and wondered why he wasn’t doing this more often. 

Late in the evening, Sharon stopped by the table with her friends. “Hey, Steve, long time no see!” she greeted him, a bright smile on her face.

Steve stood up to give her a hug. “Haven’t seen you at the coffee shop for a while, Sharon.”

“Work’s been insane,” Sharon replied. “We’ve got this case … you know how it is. FBI. We’re always working.” She chuckled. “Except for right now.” 

“Well, it was good to see you, Sharon. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll see you soon, Steve,” Sharon said with a wave and smile to all at the table.

After Leila and Natasha teamed up to drag a laughing Bucky onto the dance floor, Sam turned to Steve. “Nice to see Sharon again. I still don’t know why it didn’t work between you two.”

Steve drank his beer. He had dated Sharon on and off for a year and half but nothing ever really gelled between them. “I don’t know, Sam, guess it all came down to the fact that she loves her job more than anything else, and I wasn’t going to put an effort into dating a workaholic again. And maybe we felt like we were each other’s second choice, which didn’t help either. She’s a really great person though. I almost wish it had worked out.”

Sam rubbed Steve’s shoulder. “There are always more fish in the sea, man, always more fish.”

 

Tony was miffed. He couldn’t send Pepper into Captain Coffee as his spy anymore. She outright refused to go there until Tony explained why he needed to buy coffee from a shop in Brooklyn at least twice a week. “We’ve been there enough that they’ve given me free coffee and a scone. And you won’t tell me why.”

“The scones are delicious,” Tony replied. “You like them, too.”

She sighed and shook her head. “The scones are very good. But it’s not exactly around the corner like a dozen other coffee shops I could name. Tony. There must be a reason,” she said pointedly. Tony attempted to distract her by showing her a new shoe website. “Look, Louboutins!”

Tony was determined to find out somehow whether Steve was still working at the shop, and how he was doing. It’s not that he was cyber-stalking Steve, just checking if he could find out anything about him. To his chagrin, the Captain Coffee website yielded no information about Steve Rogers, but a lot about coffee. And there were coupons. It was all sort of depressing and sad.

If Steve was a normal person and on Facebook, or had a Tumblr or any sort of web presence, Tony would not have had to go to Captain Coffee in person. And he definitely would not have been standing in front of the shop at 9 pm at night on a Tuesday after a long day at work. He sent Happy away with instructions to circle the block and pick him up in fifteen minutes. That would give Tony enough time to check out the shop as well as a means of escape in case Steve called the cops.

Sucking in a deep breath, he opened the door and entered. Aside from the high-school kid at the register, no one else was in the shop. It was different, very different from when he was last there five years ago. The furniture, the paint on the walls, the counter all changed. His favorite table in the corner away from the door had been replaced with armchairs. Then again, Tony had no idea what he expected before he entered the shop.

At that moment, Steve came out from the back and said to the kid, “Hey, Peter, why don’t you go home? We’re slow and you’ve got school in the morning.” Steve looked good, very good. Still blond, still gorgeous, still Steve.

“Okay, thanks, Steve! See you Friday,” Peter said. As he disappeared into the back, he pointed Tony out to Steve. “By the way, customer over there.”

Taking his cue, Tony sauntered up to the counter. “Hiya, Steve. One extra-large, please.”

Steve stared at him. “Um, Tony. Wow. This is a surprise.” His hand stole up to rub the back of his neck.

“Ah, just passing through the old neighborhood, you know. Saw the old place and thought I’d drop in.” 

Steve poured Tony a coffee and put in just a touch of cream and a little sugar, the way Tony liked it best. “Well. Here you go.”

“So, you still work here?”

“Yep. Actually I own the place now,” Steve said, carefully neutral.

“Really? Oh. Good for you, Steve. And how’s the old apartment?”

“I don’t live there anymore. I couldn’t afford it.” Steve’s tone turned a touch angry.

Tony’s rational mind told him it was time to go. He pictured Pepper telling him to go. But he didn’t want to leave, even though Steve did not seem at all pleased to see him. He looked into Steve’s beautiful blue eyes, full of anger and hurt, and remembered other times when those eyes looked at him like the sun and moon rose and set with him. Suddenly Tony wanted that feeling again so very badly.

“Anything else, Tony?”

 _Take me back_ , thought Tony. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” He turned on his brightest smile. “You look great, Steve.”

A vast weariness passed over Steve’s face. “You do too, Tony.”

“Well. I’ll see you around,” Tony said as he turned to walk out of the shop.

As Tony slipped into the waiting town car, he thought that the visit hadn’t gone so badly after all. Steve had not thrown him out or yelled at him. Tony smiled. He would definitely be back.


	4. Gathering Clouds

Steve had never expected to see Tony in his coffee shop. The last time he had seen Tony in person had been five years ago in a rented office suite in Manhattan with a lawyer and paralegal. Now, after all that time, Tony blew in, upbeat and cheerful, bought his coffee, and blew out again, casual as you please, as if nothing had ever happened between them. As if three years of dating and living together with Steve meant nothing. Steve was glad he had sent Peter home early because Peter did not need to work around Steve in a bad, bad mood.

Today he watched as Clint and Bucky scraped the paint off the windows. Steve smiled to himself as he noticed Natasha try to hide her constant glances over at Bucky as he worked. Finally, she turned to Steve. “Free coffee for the workers out there?” she suggested, waving her hand at the windows.

“Of course,” Steve replied with a smile. He probably should not have been surprised when Nat poured Bucky’s favorite coffee drink. Through the partially cleaned window he watched Bucky gratefully take the coffee and chat with Nat for a few minutes. Natasha could be good for Bucky. He hoped everything worked out between them.

Later, when Natasha went to teach her after-school dance lessons, Steve couldn’t resist teasing Bucky. “I bet I could pay you in free coffee brought by Nat to get those windows clean.”

“Oh, come on, Steve,” replied a paint-flecked Bucky. “It’d have to be at least a free dinner with Nat.”

Steve laughed. “Seriously, though, going good?”

Bucky leaned in close to Steve and then said in a low voice, “Yeah, it’s going good. But I have a new policy – Don’t kiss and tell.”

“She’d kill you if you did.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Bucky said with a smile.

 

The next day, Steve went over his accounts. Business was good and steady, and he made a small profit at the end of last month. But he was cutting things close with the additional hours for Clint and his decision to cover the costs of the vandalized window instead of filing against the insurance. He also noticed a suspicious upturn in supply reorders that indicated someone was stealing napkins, creamer, cups, and sugar packets from the shop. All the costs were adding up. He did not need to dip into his savings yet; on the other hand, he wasn’t adding to the savings either. He would need to watch the spending very carefully from now on.

Schmidt had emailed another proposal to buy Steve’s business. Again, he was offering far less money than was reasonable. Steve firmly declined the proposal in his response to Schmidt. Then, in case he had missed something, he re-read Schmidt’s email and noticed the final line – “After all, Steven, we small business owners always have to handle petty daily nuisances. Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to deal with such things?” Steve shook his head at the clumsily veiled threat. 

Done with his accounting, Steve wandered out to the counter. Peter was talking to a pretty blonde girl, likely one of his classmates. He noticed Steve and mouthed something to his friend about the bossman coming to check on him. The girl glanced at Steve, giggled and went over to a table.

“Friend of yours?” Steve asked Peter. 

Peter mumbled something about a classmate and homework. But the way he couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes and how he paid very close attention to the napkin and straw supply told Steve all he needed to know about what was really going on. Steve smiled and said, “Your friends are always welcome here.” Peter nodded, still clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Steve asked Peter to sweep the floors and clear tables. While he did that, Steve neatened up the coffee supplies on the service area and behind the counter. He looked over the cozy interior of the coffee shop, with a few people working away on laptops or in quiet conversations with friends and a backdrop of light snow falling outside. The perfect winter’s night in the coffee shop was made even better with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

Then Tony came in, a backpack dangling from his hand. “Hi, Steve. Just in the neighborhood. The usual, please.” He draped his coat over a chair and unzipped his backpack to take out his laptop. Steve watched in amazement as Tony settled down, seemingly for a few hours of work.

“You’re, um, you’re Tony Stark,” Peter said, completely enthralled.

“That’s what the license says,” Tony said agreeably.

“I’m in love with what you’ve done with nanotechnology. It’s light years ahead of anyone else,” Peter gushed. “How do you do it? Oh, god, I’m going to start babbling any minute now.”

“Um, Peter, could you check the supply room to see what we need to order?” Steve said quietly as he brought Tony his coffee.

“Yep, right. Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said as he backed away.

“I see at least someone around here likes me,” Tony said, trying for humor.

Maybe it was the peaceful feeling in the shop, or maybe Peter’s enthusiasm upon seeing Tony or maybe he was feeling indulgent. But whatever the reason, Steve decided to be nice to Tony, regardless of how he felt about the man. “We always like the regulars.”

Tony visibly relaxed and Steve wondered if he saw a brief wash of gratitude over Tony’s face. “Never go anywhere else,” he said in a chipper tone.

All evening long Steve had to keep an eye on Peter, who was dying to ask Tony questions. So Steve brought Tony his coffee refills. They didn’t say anything, just a quick exchange of orders and payments while Tony typed furiously into his computer. It reminded Steve a lot of how he and Tony had first met in the coffee shop when Steve had just started working there and Tony had recently moved back to New York after graduating from MIT. 

Later, Steve reluctantly conceded it had not gone badly with Tony parked in the shop for a few hours. He could deal with Tony if this was all Tony planned to do.

Just before the shop closed, Tony settled his bill and asked, “Why’d you move my favorite table away from the counter?”

“It was too distracting for the staff,” Steve replied. He was wiping down the counter and gathering up dishes and silverware for the dishwasher.

“You know, since I’m going to be around, maybe you could put it back?” Tony suggested with a hopeful smile.

Steve looked into Tony’s big brown eyes and felt a little weak. But he knew that if he gave Tony an inch, he’d take a mile. “Not on a bet.”

“Well, a guy can try,” Tony replied, a little crestfallen. “See you later.”

“Safe travels, Tony,” Steve replied, with maybe more warmth than he should have.

 

Steve had met Bruce through the coffee shop, when Bruce was an adjunct professor at the local college and a regular customer. Bruce soon found himself without a job after a meeting with his Dean went terribly wrong, involving a thrown wastepaper basket and resulting in mandatory anger counseling. Now unemployable in academia, Bruce started up a baking business to support himself, renting time at a commercial kitchen. Steve convinced him to bake exclusively for Captain Coffee.

On a Tuesday late in February, Bruce drove the Captain Coffee van to the shop to drop off the morning delivery. As usual, he stopped to talk to Steve while bringing in the trays of baked goods from the van. When he returned to the van, he discovered that someone had slashed up all four tires of the van in the few short minutes he was gone. Steve left Clint alone at the register and joined Bruce in the alley.

Mournfully, Steve investigated the tires. It was a professional job. Whoever had done this had slashed large, unpatchable holes in the sidewalls. He stood up, wiped his dirty hands on his apron, and leaned against the van. “Do you have time to take the van to get new tires?” he asked Bruce.

“Sure. I have all day to take care of it. But what about the rest of the day’s deliveries?” Bruce pointed out.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and thought. “Okay. I have a plan. I’ll call Sam – he has a car – he and Clint can pick up the order. It will take time but we’ll get the delivery done. While they’re doing that, we’ll get the van towed to my mechanic and he’ll get us tires. And we’ll be back in business tomorrow.”

“But Sam might not be free …”

“Clint can borrow Sam’s car. Or rent one.” He patted Bruce’s shoulder in encouragement. “It’ll work out.”

Bruce looked very thoughtfully at the van and the deflated tires. “Steve, who would do this to us? Do you think it’s Schmidt?”

Steve frowned. “I’m starting to think so, yeah. But we can’t prove anything. No one saw what happened.”

In the end, it was another day lost for Steve, dealing with the police, manning the register and coffee machines alone for most of the busy morning rush and juggling phone calls from Clint, Sam and Bruce over the tires and bakery delivery. The cost to replace the van tires was a staggering thousand dollars. Steve read his insurance policy carefully and his deductible on the van was exactly a thousand. So he would still be paying out-of-pocket whether he filed a claim or not.

He had made arrangements to pay his mechanic in the morning so he didn’t have to charge the repair. But in order to pay, he would have to use a large part of his savings. He looked over at his Xbox and television. He could sell them, and possibly a couple of other spare items. They wouldn’t be worth much used, but every little bit counted and would stave off major damage to his savings. 

Pulling up Craigslist to place some for sale ads, Steve focused on the upside -- he would also save money on his cable bill. He could always watch television at Sam’s or Bucky’s or even at a local bar. He needed to get out more and this would be an excuse. Really, it was a win-win situation.

Not that he had any intention of ever letting anyone know what was going on.


	5. Allies

Jan did not often work with Natasha. As a matter of principle Jan refused to work Friday and Saturday nights, preferring afternoons, while Nat tended to work the evening shifts. The stars aligned one Wednesday a week before St. Patrick’s Day, and they were both working the same shift. Steve had left information for the staff about the weekly specials and few other instructions. “You know, I bet we’d make a lot of money on St. Patrick’s Day if we stuck a sign with ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish’ on Steve and chained him to the register,” Jan said.

Nat lifted her head from her notebook, her eyes narrowed in thought. “We could charge admission.”

“We could get him to do it if we said it was for charity,” Jan added. The women looked at each other and started laughing. “Steve would be so very earnest about it, too,” Jan continued. Nat almost doubled over laughing. Wiping a tear from her eye, Jan managed to squeak out, “Imagine if he asked the kissers if they liked their kiss, just like he asks every customer what they thought of their coffee.”

“No, no, Jan, stop,” Nat said breathlessly.

“I guess we stick with the regular specials then,” Jan conceded. “But I might make green bow ties for everyone,” she added. She set aside Steve’s directions and began to check the remaining baked goods for freshness. She noticed that Nat was writing extensively in the notebook. “What are you doing?”

“A little intelligence gathering. A patron came in today and starting throwing around napkins and stirrers and anything she got her hands on. Clint had to call the cops. So I’ve written down all the weird stuff going on around here -- I think there’s a pattern.”

“Oh, wow,” Jan said. “I haven’t seen much myself. I’ve just heard the stories.”

“That’s the problem. We all have seen the odd thing here and there during our shifts. But the incidents are piling up.” Nat held up her notebook. “There have to be connections somehow, somewhere.”

As Nat showed Jan what she had written down, Tony entered the shop and came up to the counter. “Hi, Tony,” Janet greeted him cheerfully. “It was great seeing you at the autism benefit the other night.”

“Hey, Jan.” He scanned the shop as if he were looking for someone. “Steve on tonight?” he asked.

“Nope, he’s off. He’s on tomorrow night,” Jan volunteered.

Tony nodded and placed an order for coffee. “So, how is it going?”

“Busy, busy, busy. Working here and I’m trying to get my spring line finished. And just this morning, a fashion blogger wrote about a few of my pieces.” She rang him up while Natasha handed him his coffee. “It’s all very exciting.”

“Good, good. See you around,” he said distractedly.

“Tony, remember my annual Thank God It’s Spring party!” Jan called after him. “I’ll be sending out invites soon!”

Nat looked at Tony’s retreating back and turned to Jan. “Um, do you know him?” Nat asked, slightly bewildered by the conversation.

Janet waved her hand. “I’ve known Tony since we were kids -- my mom knew Tony’s mom. But I lost track of him when he went to MIT when he was like 13 or something. Then his dad went bankrupt and nearly lost his company and his parents died in a horrible accident.” She paused. “Gosh, putting it that way it sounds like a soap opera. But Tony’s okay -- he’s great at a party.” 

After waiting on a few more customers, Jan said, “Take out that notebook. I have a few things to report.”

 

Bucky knew this was crazy as he looked over at Nat sitting in his small kitchen watching him attempt to cook her dinner. He thought she was amazing and perfect and just dazzling. He desperately wanted to impress her so he was attempting to cook. But all he was accomplishing was burning the pasta sauce.

“Is that supposed to smell like that?” Natasha asked. 

“Probably not,” Bucky admitted. 

She got up from her chair and stood next to him, gently leaning into him. He stirred the sauce but it wasn’t looking any more appetizing. “Take-out is always an option,” she suggested. 

“I can cook,” Bucky insisted.

“You can microwave,” she said with a laugh. “There’s a difference.”

He loved the faint scent of her perfume and her weight on his shoulder. She surprised him by sliding her arm around his waist. “Barnes, there are two types of people -- those who cook and those who order take-out. We are take-out people.” She gave him a squeeze.

“Seeing that you have been resistant to my immense charm, I had to try something,” Bucky drawled, giving her a wink.

Nat pulled away to check menus online on her phone. “Hey, why don’t you come to my aikido class?”

“Aikido?” Bucky turned off the stove and put the pan in the sink to soak.

“I like to do more than dance. You should see my scores in video games -- just name one,” Nat challenged. “You could learn a lot.”

They debated the various options and finally settled on Chinese. Seated on the couch in Bucky’s tiny living room in his one bedroom apartment, Natasha asked, “So now you know one of my secrets, I have a question for you.”

A bemused Bucky looked over from the other end of the couch. “Ok, shoot.”

“Why don’t you work at the coffee shop? I’ve been wondering that for a while.”

He cocked his head to the side and frowned. “I would like to, but Steve thinks I gotta focus on college. He’s all about looking out for me and he’s right, I guess -- I’d probably end up working a lot of hours and stop going to class.”

“Steve’s a great guy,” reflected Nat. “And it seems he has an admirer.”

“Steve gets hit on every day, Nat. It’s embarrassing -- he doesn’t even notice most of the time, even the obvious passes.”

“Well, this guy comes in whenever Steve works the evening shifts. I think his name is Tony,” she said.

“Tony?” Bucky asked, with an edge to his voice. “Medium-sized, brown eyes, brown hair, joined at the hip to his laptop?”

“You know him?”

Bucky gave a heavy sigh. “He’s bad news, Nat, really bad news.” He picked at his jeans. “Tony is Steve’s ex. The whole mess went down when I was in Afghanistan, but I heard everything. Steve really loved the guy, gave him everything he had, then Tony hit the jackpot with some invention, moved to California and dumped Steve.” Seething as he remembered how devastated Steve had been, he continued, “He didn’t even have the guts to break up with Steve in person -- never said anything, just moved all his stuff out of their apartment while Steve was gone.” He shook his head. “He’s an asshole, that’s what he is. A real asshole.”

The buzzer rang suddenly and Nat welcomed the interruption from Bucky’s angry tension. “I’ll get it,” she offered, springing up to buzz in the delivery guy.

 

Tony checked the time on his watch. Rhodey should have landed at JFK and arrived at the Stark Industries offices by now. He rubbed his hands in anticipation. His best friend in all the world was flying in for a rare three-day weekend. And Tony had plans, big plans, involving drinking, clubbing and staying out all evening and sleeping in until late.

The need for coffee lured him out of his office and then he puttered around, checking in with his tech development team, answering questions and solving a problem, in constant movement as usual. When he finally returned to his office, he saw Rhodey in his coat with his luggage talking to Pepper stationed at her desk. Then he overheard Pepper saying, “He goes there all the time, especially when Steve is working.”

“Steve? Steve Rogers?” Rhodey asked.

“That’s the guy. What happened between them?” Pepper inquired. “Tony won’t say anything to me.”

Tony was not going to think about Steve at all this weekend. Not at all. It was going to be Rhodey and him, having fun, fun, fun. “Hey, Rhodey! See you made it in one piece,” Tony interrupted gladly and pulled him into a hug.

“Tony! You haven’t blown anything up since you still have your eyebrows,” Rhodey shot back.

“You’re going to wish I did blow something up after we’re through, honeybunch, and you’re begging me to pack it in,” Tony replied. “Come on, let’s drop off your stuff at my apartment and get going.”

They caught up over dinner. Tony couldn’t stop laughing at Rhodey’s stories about the Air Force. “Look at you being all responsible,” Tony said. “What happened to you?”

“Some people grow up, Tone. Business going well? I’m still surprised that you moved back to New York.”

Tony had a broad smile on his face and swirled the bourbon in his glass. “Had to get away from Stane. Pushy bastard. He wants to buy me out, even though I just paid him off in full too. Now he doesn’t own a single part of me. Go me.”

“Tony, that’s great news,” Rhodey said congratulating him.

“Now all I have to do is pay off the other investors and I’ll be in the clear. The stock price is through the roof and I got another two patents. It’s all rock ‘n’ roll at SI these days.”

Tony dragged Rhodey off to an exclusive strip club and requested a VIP table with bottle service. He did not pay a whit of attention to Rhodey’s warning concerning paparazzi and gossip reporters. He didn’t care, he was determined to have the time of his life. He made brand new friends with the bachelor party next to them, flirted with the waitresses, and took pictures with other customers and strippers. Soon he was the life of the party, laughing loudly, showering the dancers with dollar bills and buying rounds of drinks. He teased Rhodey for being a downer when Rhodey pointed out how much he was spending. After a few lap dances, he was more than ready to go to a club.

“It’s the hottest club in New York right now,” Tony assured his friend as Happy dropped them off. “You are going to love this place.” He flashed a smile as the bouncer ushered them in past a waiting crowd. The DJ was playing booming electronica for the club full of happy Friday night partiers. Tony pushed them further into the dance floor, getting lost in the music, the semi-darkness, and the throng of beautiful, scantily clad women and men. Rhodey was swept away from Tony and soon settled at the end of the bar on his own.

He had to give it to Tony -- he did like the place and couldn’t complain about the constant stream of admiring women. Soon enough, he lost track of time and Tony as he chatted up some very nice ladies. An hour later, with numbers firmly in his pocket, he wondered where Tony had gone. He wasn’t on the dance floor or at the bar or even the coat room. He was, however, on the floor of the men’s bathroom, clinging to the toilet bowl and being looked after by a very drunk woman nearly falling out of her dress. “Come on, Tony,” Rhodey said gently, helping him off the floor. “Hey, leave him alone,” the woman whined.

It was clearly time to go. Rhodey propped up Tony by putting his arm under one of Tony’s shoulders. The woman attached herself like a remora to the other side of Tony. They all staggered out of the bathroom. Rhodey found a chair for Tony while he detached the woman, whose name he never learned, from Tony. She was more than reluctant to leave, telling anyone who passed by that Tony was the love of her life. “Right,” Rhodey replied and handed her off to the more sober of her friends.

Happy picked them outside the club and Rhodey manhandled a limp Tony into the back seat of the town car. Tony slumped against the window, his cheek resting on the window. “Happy, take us home,” Rhodey asked.

“No, wait,” Tony said, slurring his words. “Go to Captain Coffee.”

“Tony, come on, man, you need a shower and bed. Maybe some water,” Rhodey stated. 

“No, go, Happy. I want to see Captain Coffee.”

It wasn’t far to the coffee shop from the club. “Tony, this isn’t a good idea,” Rhodey said calmly.

Tony didn’t say anything until Happy stopped in front of the shop. It was closed, of course, since it was three in the morning. They all sat in silence for a few minutes.

“He’s in there,” Tony said in very low voice. “He lives there, in one of those apartments. Above the shop.”

Rhodey panicked, thinking that Tony was about to jump out of the car and start yelling at whatever apartment he thought Steve lived in. But Tony managed to restrain himself to only pawing at the window. “I see him every other day. I flirt, smile, turn on the charm. Nothing.” Tony sighed. “He kind of talks to me, but I could be anyone.” A couple of tears rolled down Tony’s cheek. “I just want him to look at me like he used to.”

“Tony, um, things didn’t end too well between you and Steve. So maybe Steve isn’t keen on seeing you.”

“That’s not Steve, not the Steve I know,” Tony snapped. “You have no idea how much I miss him.” He rubbed his hand over his face and banged his head against the window. “I fucked up, didn’t I, Rhodey? I really fucked up everything.”

Rhodey put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re drunk, Tone. Let’s go home. It will be better in the daylight.”

“Sure, it will,” Tony said bitterly.


	6. Tales from the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I really appreciate that you'd spend some of your time to read my little story.

Sometimes Steve would pass by his old apartment when he was out for a run in the neighborhood. He had loved that place. It had been large and airy and full of light. He was going to build a life with Tony there and fill the place with their friends and their own family. He had space to work on his art and Tony took over the second bedroom for an office. He could picture the living room and the beautiful easel that Tony had given him for their first anniversary set up in the corner.

He should have known something was up when Tony nudged him awake early. “Come on, Steve, wake up.” Tony kissed him good morning and led him with his eyes closed to the living room. “Surprise!” Tony said in his ear. Steve gasped in awe and ran his hand over the beautiful wood of the easel. “You like?” Tony said, putting his arms around Steve’s waist, leaning his head on his neck. Steve knew Tony had spent significant money on this gift. “It’s amazing, Tony,” Steve said in awe. 

Over breakfast, Steve gave Tony his gift, a hand-decorated coupon book. Tony smiled at the coupons for breakfast in bed, kisses (and more), a day free of household chores, and so on. “It’s perfect, Steve,” Tony said. They spent the morning in bed, celebrating their anniversary rather athletically. And in the afternoon, they went to Coney Island on a whim. There he talked Tony into getting their pictures taken in a photobooth. When they returned home late, a little sunburned and tired but blissful, Tony stuck the strip of photos in the bureau mirror frame. Steve held Tony in his arms until they fell asleep. He could not imagine a more perfect day.

Steve still wondered how in the world he had gone from being deeply and hopelessly in love with Tony and building something together to standing alone with a box of his belongings in an empty apartment where he had been so happy.

When Steve thought of them as “we,” Tony thought of them as “you and I.” Even though the words seemed the same, there was an ocean of difference in the meaning. Maybe that’s what drove them apart despite Steve’s best efforts.

The beautiful apartment was long gone. The easel was in a box under his bed. The photobooth photos lost. But now Tony was back. And Steve had no idea what Tony wanted from him.

 

Steve enjoyed watching television at Sam’s place he shared with his girlfriend. They had made the place very cozy with comfortable furniture, throw pillows, nice art on the walls, plants and other decorative touches. It wasn’t like Bucky’s prison cell of an apartment with its bare walls and Spartan furniture. He handed a beer to Sam and sat down on the couch to watch a basketball game. 

“Leila has a few people she thinks you’d like to meet,” Sam offered.

“Oh?” Steve said noncommittally. 

“Yeah, a couple of guys and women she knows. Interested?”

Steve drank his beer and watched the game. “I, um, appreciate, her offer, Sam, but I’m not comfortable going on blind dates. I know she means well.”

“We worry about you, man. I’m glad to see you getting out more. But my ma says you’re the kind of person who needs someone to look after,” Sam said gently.

“I’m just in a dry spell, Sam,” Steve replied, “It will get better.”

They talked for a while about the game, Steve commiserating with Sam, who followed the Knicks and often suffered for it.

“I hear Tony is back at the coffee shop,” Sam said during a break in the action.

“Yeah. He’s showing up during my shifts.”

“Bucky would kneecap him for you if you asked.”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “He’s offered to do worse in the past. So I guess he’s warming up to Tony after all.”

“You don’t have to –“

“It’s a free country, Sam. I’m not kicking Tony out of my coffee shop if he’s willing to buy my coffee. He spends enough on it to support a small country.”

“You’re being very adult about it.”

Steve thought about Tony. “I’m not angry with him. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about him. But it’s not anger now.” He leaned over to put the bottle on the table. “We had some great times together and it’s nice to remember that.” 

“If it’s good for you, Steve, it’s good for me,” Sam said.

“I’m not saying that I’ll take him back or go on a date with him. All I’m saying is that when I see him, I remember the good things,” Steve said, a touch defensively. 

Sam looked at him carefully. “I’m not Bucky, Steve. I’m not going to warn you to stay away or anything. You’re a grown man and you gotta live your life.”

Steve only nodded. “And I’m not moving the furniture to let Tony up near the counter. He asked but it’s not going to happen.” Steve was dead set against returning a table to Tony’s favorite spot, even if he had persuaded Jan and Peter to plead his case.

“So, that’s still a no on the blind date thing?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, still a no.”

 

The Tuesday after Rhodey left, Tony prepared for his board of directors meeting. While reading spreadsheets, his mind went over what Rhodey had told him as they waited for the cab to take Rhodey to the airport. Rhodey looked straight in Tony’s eyes and said firmly, “Tony, you need to figure out what you want and commit to that. Do that before you try anything with Steve. If for some reason Steve is willing to go out with you, and you have no idea what you are doing or what you want with him, you’ll blow your second – and only – chance with him.”

Pepper leaned into Tony’s office. “Tony, this is your 10 minute warning.”

“Yep, got it.” He sighed heavily. He hated dealing with the board. From the minute he took over the remnants of the family business, he knew that the board of directors and possible investors really wanted Howard in his prime or a clone of Howard. He needed the money and support of the board so he played up the playboy, trust-fund-brat persona. He glad-handed and charmed his way through meetings and nights out with venture capitalists, angel investors, hedge-fund managers and bankers. He was brilliant at it.

But he knew better than the board and investors. For all his brilliance and his inventions, Howard had been a high-tech, snake oil salesman at the end of his life, offering very little that customers were interested in. Beside the salesmanship, Tony also brought the inventions and the patents. He had the vision and the edge that other tech people didn’t have. He was a true futurist and it showed in Stark Industries’ current wild success.

It all came at the price of Steve.

He remembered in particular one phone call from Steve, one of their last. Tony was in California drumming up business. He and Steve had been fighting on the phone about when Tony was coming home, one of the latest in a string of nasty, vicious, loud fights. But this call was different. 

Steve was eerily calm when they talked. He asked in a measured tone, “When are you coming home? You’ve been in Malibu for three weeks and you never give me a straight answer when I ask. I’ve been holding down the fort here in Brooklyn and I have no idea what you are up to.” Then his voice cracked with as emotion as he continued, “Do you even miss me, Tony? I miss you like hell but you don’t –“

Fear pooled in Tony’s stomach. He panicked and then lied, “Steve, baby, I’ll be back soon. Don’t you worry.” 

Tony should have just asked Steve to come out to Malibu. He knew that now. At the time though, he was so focused on getting his needed support from his investors and board and playacting as “carbon copy” Howard. He needed Steve to be patient just a little longer. So he told Steve he was coming back in a week to buy himself time, one little white lie to get Tony through a difficult conversation. But the board and his investors had very different plans for Tony, which definitely did not include Steve. But Tony had a plan to fix everything. And Steve and his investors would never know what Tony had been up to. They would be together again and Tony would have the money he needed.

But the universe and his own ambition conspired against him. His house of cards collapsed, and well-intentioned Tony lost. Lost Steve, who was everything that ever mattered.

He had not been completely honest with Steve at the time. He had deceived himself over the years about what Steve had meant to him and about what really had happened. And he would never have seen where he had gone horribly wrong, until a crisis last year shook him to his very foundations. Now he had an opportunity to fix things with Steve, if he could find a way to reach him. If he could overcome his own fears.

People didn’t always see it in him, but Tony was a fighter, and he was determined to fight to win Steve back.

“Tony, it’s time,” Pepper said, as she came to fetch Tony for his meeting.


	7. Uneasy Alliance

After St. Patrick’s Day, Steve watched Tony stealthily claim the small seating area near the counter as his own over the week. He was not so bold as to move the furniture around, especially under Steve’s watchful eye. Instead he arranged the furniture carefully, little by little, so that he could work on his laptop and talk to whomever was at the counter. His final assault on the seating area was the addition of a compact folding card table. Steve was thunderstruck when he saw Tony deploy the card table from his backpack. And Tony smiled at him over his coffee like the cat who ate the canary once he was settled into his nest.

Steve debated on whether he wanted to fight back and figure out a way to discourage Tony. Maybe Tony wanted to incite a fight or just provoke him. Steve was not inclined to give Tony any more attention than any of his regulars. Or any less. He rolled his eyes when Tony attempted to flirt with Nat or discussed the charity social scene with Janet. He did have to intervene on occasion when Tony and Peter spent too much time discussing science and he needed Peter to wait on customers. In time, Tony was as much as part of the coffee shop community as any of the regulars, to the point that the staff was starting to call the seating area Tony’s Corner.

Two of Tony’s best qualities were his persistence and his insistence on finding solutions to difficult problems. Steve had always liked that about Tony, admired it even, and though he still ambivalent about Tony being in the shop, seeing Tony accomplish what he’d set out to do brought a smile to Steve’s face.

Bucky asked about Tony, and Steve said that they were in a state of mutual toleration. Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve’s explanation but said nothing. And Bucky muttered under his breath when Steve started bringing coffee to Tony unasked for. He had warned Steve enough about Tony before and he was convinced that Tony was up to no good. Then he worried about Steve when he started to occasionally smile at Tony’s flirting. But Bucky had to content himself by sitting in Tony’s Corner when he stopped by to talk to Nat. The outraged disappointment on Tony’s face when he arrived expecting to sit in his chair and seeing Bucky sprawling all over was priceless.

It was a Wednesday night and it was just Peter and Steve as usual on duty. Steve had had an extremely frustrating day with the Wi-Fi. It had been turning off and on all day, ending up mostly off, and he was having a hard time determining the cause of the problem. He finally had to call his service provider and arrange for a technician to come. But he was fretting over how long the shop would be without Wi-Fi. More than a couple of days without, and he would start losing customers. Already he had noticed that some customers weren’t staying as long as usual, which meant less coffee and baked goods sales.

Tony, in an especially buoyant mood for some reason, bounced into the shop. He unpacked his amazing folding work table and booted up the laptop. Unprompted, Peter brought him his latest favorite coffee – black with a shot of espresso. “Hey, what’s going on here with the Wi-Fi?” Tony asked, clearly annoyed.

“Not working,” Steve replied. Peter had gone into the back office to try his hand at fixing it.

“I am wounded, Steve, wounded that you didn’t ask me the minute I walked in. After all, who best to fix your Wi-Fi than me?” Tony waved a hand at himself. “After all, I am the guy with the multi-million dollar tech company, built from my own sweat.”

Steve looked into Tony’s bright, hopeful eyes. He knew that Tony was sincere in offering to help. But he so very much didn’t want to be in debt to Tony for any reason. 

Peter came in from the back, looking wrung out. “It’s absolutely fucked, Steve, I can’t figure anything out.”

“Language, Peter,” Steve said automatically.

Tony came over, putting his hands up on the counter. Steve noticed the amount of calluses on his fingers and a burn mark on his thumb. Some things never changed for Tony. “Well?” Tony prompted.

“When’s the technician coming?” Peter asked.

“I bet a week from next Friday,” Tony observed. “And he won’t say when he’ll be here or how much it will cost to fix. And yet, here I am, right in front of you, willing to work for coffee.”

Steve just wasn’t sure he could pay the unspoken price of Tony’s help. Putting himself in Tony’s debt was unsettling. But time without Wi-Fi could cost him significant money. He sighed and came to a decision. “Come on back, I’ll show you the server.”

Grabbing his backpack, Tony followed Steve to the office. He settled into Steve’s chair and started running diagnostics on the server. Steve waited for a few anxious moments as Tony sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and bit his lip. “Talk to me, computer, tell me what’s wrong here. Nothing looks at all good. Who’s been messing with you?” He pulled out his phone and set it on the desk. “Um, Steve, this is going to take a while.”

“Would you like anything?” Steve resisted thinking of how attractive Tony could be when he was working on a problem – the way he ran his hand through his thick wavy hair, the fierce intelligence in his eyes, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration.

“The strongest coffee you can make. And lots of it. And could you send me Kid Science too? I have some questions for him.” Tony cracked his knuckles and began to tap furiously into his phone.

Steve waited pensively as Tony kept Peter in the back working. At least business was steady with customers enjoying the relatively mild very early spring evening. During a lull, Steve brought coffee back to Tony. “Where’s Peter?” Steve asked, not seeing the boy anywhere.

“He’s in the alley, mapping your connections.” Tony held up his phone to show pictures of the wiring to Steve. 

“Is he on the fire escape? That’s not safe, Tony.”

“He’s young and flexible,” Tony said, dismissing Steve’s concerns. Steve suppressed his frown at Tony’s cavalier attitude.

A half-hour after Steve had checked in on Tony, Peter came out to the front in his coat, equipped with a long list and a credit card. “Where are you going?” Steve asked.

“To the hardware store. Tony needs stuff.”

Steve checked the time. “It’s nearly nine.”

“Tony knows a place that’s open until 11. He called his driver to take me there.”

“Okay, but it’s a school night, Peter.”

Peter flashed a bright smile. “I won’t be long, Mom.” And he was right – Peter was back in about 45 minutes with a large bag full of cables and connectors and other electrical parts. Steve wondered how much it had cost and fretted some more.

Once Tony’s driver left to take Peter home, Steve closed the shop early and asked Tony what was going on. He found Tony rewiring the cables in the alley outside . “Coffee?” Tony asked hopefully around the pliers in his mouth.

“Right. Coffee.” Steve went to put on another pot for Tony. When he returned he offered, “Do you need help?”

“Nope, I’m set. This is the easy part. Once I’m finished with the wiring, I’ll have to work on the server. That part might take another two hours.”

Steve cleaned up the shop except for the coffee machine he was using for Tony’s coffee. He took special care in wiping down the tables and chairs. Finally, when he realized that he was seriously considering vacuuming the couches at 11:30 at night, he decided to give up and sit with Tony.

He grabbed an extra chair and found a spare sketchbook stuck behind some binders in the office. He sat down to sketch while Tony worked the problem. Fond memories of previous evenings spent exactly in this manner, albeit in a far more comfortable apartment, tugged at Steve. He had missed this so much, listening to Tony talk a blue streak at a computer, thinking out loud as he coded and designed. He began to sketch Tony at work on his computer in the cramped office.

“There, fixed,” Tony announced proudly. 

“What was wrong?”

“It was a brilliant piece of work, although not as brilliant as the fix. Someone definitely sabotaged the Wi-Fi. For one thing, they cut the outside connections. They didn’t cut the cable entirely – they nicked it so it would look like wear and tear, but would severely affect the performance of your internet connections. At some point they found a way to load some pretty nasty malware on your server so that if for some reason the cable worked, then the malware would finish off the server. I’ve done the rewiring and then scrubbed everything else. I also added the strongest firewall I could and some other protections.”

“Wow,” Steve said. “Would any of my customers have been affected?”

Tony considered. “Doubtful. The malware was designed to affect your server.” He finished off his coffee. “I’m starving. Want to grab something to eat?”

Steve froze. He shouldn’t go, he knew he shouldn’t go. But Tony had just worked over four hours straight to fix Steve’s Wi-Fi. Despite Steve’s misgivings, he did owe Tony. He had planned to pay in coffee and repay Tony for the equipment. 

As if reading Steve’s mind, Tony wheedled, “Just pizza and beer. Or hamburgers and fries, and we’re even.”

Food sounded very good right now. And if Steve kept the conversation on the weather and sports, he could make it through a dinner with Tony. “Okay, fine, there’s a place around the corner.”

They slid into a booth in the all-night 50s style diner. Steve glanced at Tony over the top of his menu and suddenly felt uneasy about the whole prospect of being alone with Tony for at least a half-hour, just them without the buffer of work and familiar environs. When he had agreed back at the shop, it hadn’t seemed so complicated, just a quick stop for food. But now he was sitting with menus and water across from Tony like he had so many times before in much happier times. And Steve felt torn up inside, with part of him wanting to be anywhere else, a thousand miles away, and the other part wanting to brush the hair out of Tony’s eyes. Tony smiled at the waitress and ran his hand through his thoroughly dishevelled hair. Steve ordered a hamburger and French fries while Tony unexpectedly ordered a chicken sandwich. 

“So, it looks like no more snow until next winter,” Steve opened.

Tony, who was checking his phone, looked up at Steve. “Yeah, still could rain buckets.”

“It won’t be cold though,” Steve countered. Keep it light, Rogers, it’s only dinner and they’re quick with the food here.

“Let me guess, next thing is how about those Mets?” Tony said, twisting a discarded straw wrapper in his fingers. 

“Spring training has started and they’re looking good.” 

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Some things never change, like you and baseball.” He smiled brightly at Steve.

Somehow that made Steve smile back. “Yeah, baseball. I still follow it.” No, don’t smile back, you fool, he berated himself, don’t give Tony any ideas.

They talked a little about the Mets and the Dodgers, dancing around the questions Steve was desperate to ask and Tony was equally desperate to avoid. The waitress brought their food and they ate in silence for a while. Then Tony asked suddenly, “So how did you end up owning the old coffee shop?”

Taking a deep breath, Steve said, “Phillips decided to retire to Florida and I thought it was a great opportunity.”

“But your art – I thought when I came back, I’d find that you were off being a famous artist somewhere,” Tony commented.

Pushing his fries around his plate, Steve shrugged. “Don’t have much time for it. I’m actually working much more now that I own the business, but I guess that goes with the territory.” He glanced up at Tony, who suddenly looked very sad. He started to reach automatically for Tony’s hand, but stopped himself and hoped Tony didn’t notice. He tightened his grip on his unruly emotions. “So, I’m surprised you moved back to New York.”

Recovering quickly, Tony said cheerfully, “Well, although California is the center of the tech world in many ways, there are a lot of benefits to being headquartered out of New York. We’ve been very successful in biotech too, and this is a good place for it. Plus, I have independence from my investors --”

“Can’t tick off the investors, right?” interrupted Steve with some bitterness. Tony had just reminded him of the reasons he shouldn’t be warming up to him. Better to keep him at arm’s length, like a colorful but dangerous snake. 

“Things are different now,” Tony replied firmly. He smiled appealingly, his eyes willing Steve to trust him as he reached for Steve’s hand.

Steve pulled back from Tony. “Really?” Steve asked skeptically. He did not know how much he could believe Tony. He wanted to, though. He still found him very attractive with his dark wavy hair and brown eyes with the copper flecks, liked how he smiled, liked the confidence and charisma. He was noticing everything that he ever liked about Tony before and a few new things. He could not afford to be persuaded by Tony’s charm, because Tony had let him down before. Badly. But being here with Tony made him want to believe that Tony had changed.

“I’m in the driver’s seat now, master of my own fate. You’ll see. I’m not so dependent on Neanderthal investors for money that they can push me around like before.”

Steve could not say anything to that without opening old wounds, and they finished their dinner in silence. Tony called for his driver, Happy, to meet him in front of Captain Coffee. As they walked back to the shop, Tony asked, “Steve, why would anyone mess with your Wi-Fi? You make any enemies lately?”

Steve frowned. “It could be Johann Schmidt – he’s been after me to sell the business. He’s looking to get Imperial Coffee into Williamsburg and thinks that my shop would be a start.”

“Seriously? He would do that?”

“There’s been some vandalism since I turned him down.”

“Next time I’m in, I’ll scan your computer again to see if I can find anything to tie Schmidt to the Wi-Fi problem,” Tony offered.

Steve thought for a moment. Nat and Clint had been recording the incidents. If Tony could somehow prove Schmidt sabotaged his Wi-Fi, then Steve could go to the police and get Schmidt stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work with Tony in this one instance. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Tony hopped into the car and gave Steve a wink. “See you around.”

Steve stood on the curb, watching Tony’s car disappear into the night. He felt confused and a little lost. Maybe Tony was sincere in his offer of his help and maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he wanted something from Steve. But Steve couldn’t deny that something inside him longed for Tony.


	8. Threats

It was a miserable, drizzly late March Wednesday afternoon; just the sort of day to bring customers in droves. Steve and Jan handled the steady crowd cheerfully and efficiently, with Steve taking a little extra time to doodle on coffee cups for the regulars. He hadn’t done it for a while and he couldn’t remember why he had stopped because the customers loved it. With a smile, he handed over a coffee cup with a telescope over to Jane. She gleefully talked him into putting a hammer on Thor’s order.

Jan commented, “Gosh, Steve, you’re all rainbows and million-dollar smiles today.” 

Steve shrugged. “Didn’t notice anything different today.” He checked the time and wondered if Tony was stopping by later. If he was, Steve should really save a couple of his favorite muffins for him. And start working on drawing a robot on a cup. Tony always liked his robot drawings.

“Well, I have no idea why you’d be in a good mood at all on a day like this,” Jan grumped. “My new shoes got soaked on the way over. And despite my best efforts, I still can’t break into gossip pages.”

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. Sometimes he did not understand Jan at all. “Say what?”

“I’ve been trying to get publicity for my fashion line so I thought a couple of planted stories here and there would help me. Tony’s all over the tabloids and TMZ – it doesn’t hurt him. I just want to know how he gets on Page 6 in the Bugle.”

“Then ask Tony how he does it, since you two are thicker than thieves these days.”

Jan considered for a second. “I’ll ask him when he comes in.” Then she smiled at Steve. “Tony asks about you all the time, you know.”

“Jan, he talks a lot about a lot of things.”

She bumped his shoulder. “Come on, he’s cute, you’re cute. He’s single, you’re single.”

Steve didn’t talk about his personal life at all at work, even with Bucky and Sam dropping by to talk all the time. But he thought that by now Jan would have heard from someone about Tony and him. Before he could tell her to drop it, he noticed that Schmidt had arrived. Schmidt carefully shook off his umbrella and leaned it against the doorframe. He then looked possessively around the shop, taking in the number of customers scattered around. Jan looked worried as Steve squared himself for dealing with Schmidt.

“Ah, Steven, I’d hoped to see you,” Schmidt said, not at all warmly. “I’d like a large coffee, cream, sugar.”

Steve poured the order and Schmidt directed Steve to join him at a small table. Steve slid into the chair opposite Schmidt. He wondered if Schmidt liked his coffee. He knew that Schmidt would never admit it what he thought about it, but always ordered a cup when he stopped in. “Steven, steady business today, no?”

“We’re doing alright,” Steve replied.

“You’re a good businessman, but you could do better, be a little more efficient, make more profit.”

“Maybe, but things are good here, the customers are happy, we serve great coffee.”

“If I bought you out, I would be more than glad to offer you a management job with Imperial Coffee. As long you followed our policies, Steven, that is.”

Steve played with a sugar packet as he considered what Schmidt was really after. Schmidt was putting a lot of pressure on him, when Steve was convinced that the area could handle another coffee shop or two. And he also figured that they should let people talk with their wallets about what type of coffee shop they wanted. “What do you want?” he asked.

With a thin, grim smile, Schmidt said, “Only something mutually beneficial for us both. You sell me the business -- you are free to take up your promising art career again and I get an established business with excellent customer good will.”

“I’m not interested, Schmidt.” As much as Steve would like the time to work on his art, Schmidt was not offering enough money for him to sell.

“This is only the beginning for Imperial Coffee. We’re going to be big, Steve, and you’ll regret not joining us.”

“Probably not,” Steve calmly said. As usual, Schmidt was not offering anything he’d be interested in.

“I could sweeten my offer a bit, but not much more. You know, I must be able to make money once I’ve bought the business.” He finished his coffee. “And there’s much I’d need to do to make this an Imperial Coffee shop,” Schmidt said with contempt.

“I’m not open to negotiations,” Steve said.

“Oh, that’s too bad, Steven. Too bad. Because I know the past couple of months have been hard for you.” Schmidt and Steve stood up and Schmidt adjusted his coat cuffs in a studied fashion. He flashed another grim smile at Steve and threatened in a low voice, “It can always get worse. You should think about that. Always could get worse.”

As Steve returned to the counter, Janet made a face and said, “Good riddance. He makes the whole place feel cold and dark.”

Steve sighed. “We’re all going to have to more vigilant. I think that Schmidt is planning something.” An imaginative person, Steve could guess at least a dozen things that Schmidt could do to undermine his business. “I am not going to let him wreck my business,” Steve declared. And Steve would need to think hard about how he was going to fight back since it was coming to that.

 

It did not take much effort for Nat to talk Bucky into going to an Imperial Coffee shop. All Nat had to say was “I just want to see what they are about” and Bucky was in. Bucky knew they both wanted to know what Schmidt planned for Captain Coffee if he somehow managed to drive Steve out of business. Using the Imperial Coffee website, Nat had scoped out a location in Manhattan for them to check out.

“Do I look convincing as a spy?” Bucky teased Nat. He was dressed in his usual jeans, t-shirt, hoodie and beat-up leather jacket. 

Nat laughed at him and ruffled his hair. “Now you look better,” she said with an appraising look. “They’ll never know we’re working for Captain Coffee.”

“I could have worn the t-shirt with the logo,” he offered.

Nat shook her head at him as she called for a cab. Putting her phone back in her purse, she said, “I bet customers would buy those t-shirts.”

“Steve tried that a couple of times – not much interest actually. He might have some spares left over if you want one.”

After getting out of the cab, they scrutinized the store front with the Imperial Coffee sign in red and black. “It looks, um, imposing,” Bucky ventured.

“You mean unfriendly,” Nat corrected him. He smiled at her as he held the door open for her. “And it’s not any better inside,” she said with a sigh.

The Imperial Coffee interior contained aluminum counters, a concrete floor, and bare walls covered with panels of faux wood paneling. There were a sparse number of plastic chairs and laminated tables and a long black formica counter down the center of the shop. The red-bordered menu of coffee and coffee drinks over the registers was precise and clear. The set-up of the registers, pick-up counter, and side area with cup covers, stirrers, napkins, and trash were very well designed and perfectly set up for a person coming to pick up coffee on their way to somewhere else. And the place was loud and echo-y with all the hard surfaces. The feeling Bucky got was that Imperial Coffee was efficient, clean, cold and unwelcoming. 

Bucky whispered, “I get the feeling that every Imperial Coffee is set up in the exact same way.” Nat nodded.

They had previously agreed on what they were going to order. The cashier perfunctorily said, “Welcome to Imperial Coffee.” Bucky placed an order for a black coffee and a caramel macchiato. He noticed some baked goods and asked for a muffin and a croissant. He noticed no tip jar or anything vaguely personal at the counter. The cashier directed him to the pick-up counter. Another staff member handed over his order in a thoroughly professional manner, everything packaged in black and red cups and wrappers.

Bucky joined Nat at a table and set down the coffee. She was looking through a printed menu and said, “Wi-fi is free for the first half hour, after that you have to pay.”

They quietly observed the customers coming and going and the thoroughly impersonal interactions with the staff. Bucky tried his coffee. “It’s not bad but it’s far from really good.”

Trying her macchiato, Nat said, “Passable. The muffin – I’ve had worse and I’ve had a lot better. But we did pay a lot of money for mediocre coffee. That makes me want to say something to the staff.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Bucky suggested. “I don’t think that the staff care whether you like the coffee or not. And this whole place is set up so that people don’t linger. Your money is welcome but you are not sort of thing.”

She balled up her napkin. “Then let’s go. This place is depressing and corporate in all the bad ways.” They threw out the rest of the coffee, muffin and croissant on their way out. Bucky looked around, struck again by the antiseptic décor and organization. He was glad this was not his neighborhood coffee shop. 

Nat slid into back seat of the cab after Bucky. He put his arm around her shoulder. “I really hope that Steve is stubborn enough to resist Schmidt,” he said worriedly. “I’d hate for Captain Coffee to turn into that.”

“The odds are in our favor,” Nat replied encouragingly. She squeezed his knee and smiled at him. “Hey, let me take you out on a better date?”

Bucky kissed her. “What could be more fun than running a surveillance mission on my best friend’s competitor?”

“The bar has been set high,” she admitted. “But I’ll come up with something better.”

 

Steve was surprised when Tony showed up Thursday night with a rather large toolbox and a bag filled with three webcams and additional equipment. Steve picked up a webcam and studied it. “Why the webcams?”

Tony was in the middle of clearing off a table so he could start installation. “You don’t know who’s behind the vandalism, right? One of these well-placed babies will get you the evidence you need to stop it.” He opened the toolbox and took out a cordless drill. “All I need is to figure out where to set up the cameras.”

Turning towards the counter, Steve asked, “Nat, where’s the notebook?” Nat brought out the nearly filled notebook with all the incidents the staff were recording. He flipped through it. “One should go in the alley. And one in the front.”

“Two in the alley,” Nat suggested. “Each pointing in a different direction.”

“Good idea,” Tony replied distractedly. “Really, Steve, a notebook? Not a spreadsheet or computer file or something that people in this century use?” He started tapping a screwdriver on the table.

In the past, Steve had found Tony irresistible when he was wound up with so much creative energy that he vibrated. This was another of those moments right now. Steve found himself longing to slide his arms around Tony’s waist and kiss him on his neck as Tony prattled on about his plans and designs.

“Nat was telling me about her visit to Imperial Coffee,” Steve ventured. He gave Tony coffee and Tony smiled when he saw the robot on the cup. He briefly glanced up at Steve and then looked down at the equipment on the table.

“Disappointing, was it?” Tony said. “There are venture capitalists drooling over the prospect of Imperial Coffee going public. But I think it has a limited appeal.”

“Who’d want to go there?” Nat asked.

“Not everyone wants the perfect cup of coffee all the time. They’re okay with settling for coffee-right-now, regardless of the taste.” Tony sipped from his cup. “If it wasn’t for Steve showing me what great coffee could be, I’d still be settling for the sludge I have in my workshop and have no clue how much better it could be.” He paused a second. “If Imperial Coffee is doing well, then it’s clearly working for some people.”

Steve and Nat exchanged looks. “Well, that makes sense,” Steve said thoughtfully. “Not everyone is the same. My business model is not Imperial Coffee’s. There is enough room for the both of us.”

“That’s not the way Schmidt sees it,” Nat pointed out. 

“Well, that’s on him. Tony, let me know if you need anything, okay?” Steve said.

While Tony worked on setting up the webcams, Steve pondered what was going to happen next. He talked with Nat about what she and Bucky had seen at Imperial Coffee. He was going to have to read through the incident notebook carefully to see if there were any patterns. Nat also had suggestions about the patterns that she saw. Whatever Schmidt had in mind was going to be along the same lines of painting the front windows or slashing the van’s tires.

While they talked, Tony was a blur of activity as he installed the webcams in the front of the shop and in the alleyway. Steve ordered him dinner from the sandwich place next door, and brought dinner and coffee to the small office where Tony working on the software installation. They ate dinner together, and chatted about their week and other things. Despite the reason for Tony being there, it was rather nice to be spending time with Tony even with the occasional slight awkwardness.

Finally, after packing up his toolbox and cleaning up the table, Tony said, “Umm, I have to come back to finish up the installation. I’ve got a thing on Friday night, but how about I come by around dinner time on Saturday and we can order pizza in while I work?”

Steve wondered if he imagined Tony holding his breath while waiting for a response from him. The idea of having pizza with Tony sounded more appealing than it should have. Before Steve could think any more about it, he found himself saying, “Yeah, that sounds good. Give me a call before you come over.”

“Great. And I’d like to start working on updating your website. I’m concerned about your website security – the way things are now, that site can be hijacked.”

Steve frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well. Gotta run. See you Saturday!” Tony said, waving to Steve as he left.

Steve took a deep breath. When had he started looking forward to seeing Tony? And why? His heart fluttered at Tony’s smile, his heart raced when he brushed Tony’s arm. If he allowed himself to fall for Tony again – and he was very much in danger of doing exactly that – he could easily be setting himself up for major disappointment. But Tony was so wonderful and exciting and enticing, damnit. Steve was in such trouble now.


	9. The Storm Breaks

“Hey, Bossman,” Clint greeted Steve sitting in the back office. “I was wondering –“

“Yes, you can have the day of Jan’s party off,” Steve finished. He was in the middle of paying bills and wondering why his vendor had suddenly increased his coffee prices. He didn’t need the extra expense right now. 

“Umm – how did you know?” Clint asked.

“You’re the third person who asked. Jan told me she invited everyone to the party. Bruce has offered to cover and I’ll put Peter on with him.” Janet had been talking up the party, promising people that they would get to meet the elusive Hank. 

“Um, well, great!” Clint said hesitantly, as if he had expected to argue for the time off and was surprised to find that Steve was okay with it.

Steve waved him off with a smile and turned back to the paperwork on his desk to work through his bills and invoices. When finished, he ran his hand through his hair with a weary sigh. He thought back to last week and the great time he had sharing a pizza with Tony while Tony put the finishing touches on the webcam installation. Steve hoped Tony would be coming by the shop that night – he’d be a very welcome distraction right now.

 

Because Jan had asked Steve a favor in scheduling people around her party, he asked her to work a Saturday afternoon in return. All afternoon Jan endured Clint teasing her about Hank. In turn she was in a surprisingly bad mood, complaining to Clint that she was stuck in a rut with her designs and not getting anywhere.

Clint nodded at the right spots while Janet talked. At this point it was late afternoon and there were no customers in the shop. Business was slow and they both had completed the tasks Steve had assigned over an hour ago. Clint was bored to the point of considering calling Steve for more work, because Steve always had ideas for more work. “ Do you think Steve is at the gym?”

Jan shrugged. “He’s probably with Sam. I saw him briefly this morning and he said something about being out this afternoon.” She frowned. “I don’t really remember.”

Clint checked the time. In a hour or so, they would likely have a steady stream of customers, people stopping for coffee after a day out, friends gathering before going out for the night, and awkward couples meeting for a coffee date. “Who’s on tonight?” he asked.

“Um, the usual crew – Steve and Pete,” she said.

Clint ran through a mental checklist for stocking behind the counter. Steve strongly preferred having the freshest ground coffee beans, so Clint could not do that much prep before people came in. He could top off the various supplies and get some of the spare cups with doodles that Steve stored in a box in the back. “Hey, Jan, I’m going to rummage in the back. Give me a call if you need me.”

Clint could not really call pulling supplies from the supply room as “rummaging.” Steve organized the boxes and bags into an efficient system where product loss was kept to a minimum and stock turned over so that nothing was stale, each and every box labeled in his neat handwriting. Even the milk and cream in the refrigerator were labeled. Clint pondered why they had six different types of sugar (regular, raw, and four sugar substitutes). He would have to check the service areas to make sure that they were stocked appropriately. 

Then he heard Jan yelling at someone, loud enough for him to hear in the supply room. That couldn’t be good. He rushed out to the front.

 

Jan flipped through her latest Vogue issue after Clint left for the supply room. As the bell jingled at the door, she looked to see a customer burst into the shop. He was large, dressed in work boots and jeans, with a nondescript tan jacket zipped to his chin, collar pulled up to cover his jaw and mouth, and a knit hat pulled down low over his ears. Jan might be petite, but she never let a customer intimidate her. And she knew something wasn’t right here. “Can I help you?” she asked in a firm and not exactly friendly tone.

The man did not respond but stepped further into the shop. Another man, dressed similarly, came in behind him carrying a baseball bat. The first man started to toss the chairs around and tip over the tables.

“Hey, stop that!” Jan yelled. She grabbed for the phone to call the police. “Clint! Get out here!”

That’s when the man with the bat took a swing at one service station, sending the cups, sugar, and stirrers to the floor. He steadily worked his way towards the counter. Jan froze in place, scared and shocked at what the men were doing. The two men moved methodically and relentlessly through the shop, leaving destruction in their wake, ripping artwork from the walls, stomping on couch cushions and pushing over the furniture. Jan shakily dialed 911, frantically calculating if she would get through to the police before the men reached to the counter. “Stop! Stop it! Get out! Out!” she kept shouting. They ignored her.

Clint ran up and pulled Jan away from the counter. She dropped the phone handset. She could barely hear the 911 operator asking her what was wrong over the noise of crashing glass, cups and silverware and crunch of furniture shoved around. “Help! We’re being attacked!” she yelled just before Clint hustled her out to the alley.

Standing outside the shop, she watched helplessly through the front windows as the man with the bat swung his bat at the counter display cases, shattering the glass doors and covers. The other man jumped behind the counter and started ripping the coffee machines off the counter and throwing the carafes on the floor.

Clint in the meanwhile had the presence of mind to use his cell phone to call 911. He described the scene to the operator while the man behind the counter rocked the registers back and forth and the man with the bat smashed each machine and carafe into bits of metal and plastic. They crushed everything they could get their hands on, sweeping anything remaining onto the floor littered with napkins and coffee grounds. The first man broke into the registers and shoved the money into his pockets and jeans. He tossed the tip jar to the man with the bat.

“The police are coming,” Clint whispered and put a comforting hand on Jan’s shoulder. 

But it was too late. The men looked around at the shop to see if anything was left standing. Satisfied with their work, they left as silently as they came. They didn’t even look at Clint and Jan and started laughing as they walked down the street. 

Still in shock, Jan shivered in the cold of the early April evening. “I can’t believe that just happened,” she said. “Why did they do that? We never did anything to anyone.”

“I have no idea,” Clint replied. “We can’t go into the shop until the police come -- it’s a crime scene.” At least they did not have to wait long for the police to come. Steve arrived as the police were interviewing Janet and Clint about the assault.

Clint explained to Steve what had happened as a dejected Janet talked to an officer. The other officer was taking pictures and writing down descriptions of the damage. Finally the officers allowed Steve and Clint into the shop. Surveying the damage Steve said quietly, “We should call Hank to pick up Jan. She’s not looking too good.”

“I’ll ask her for her cell phone.”

“This is a bad time for this to happen,” Steve said ruefully.

“This is a bad time?” Clint echoed with a bitter laugh. “ _Anytime_ something like this happens is a bad time.”

“What I mean, Clint, is that I can’t swing by a restaurant supplier and pick up replacement machines until Monday at best,” Steve replied calmly. But his eyes were filled with anger.

“Oh no, that’s not good,” Clint said. “Sunday morning is one of our busiest times.”

Steve cocked his head. “Well, I have an idea, but I need to make some calls. I’m going to try to open as soon as we can. But first, get Hank.”

With Jan’s permission, Clint retrieved her cell phone from her locker and called Hank, who was shocked at the vandalism, but seemed to be the middle of something and strangely reluctant to leave. Steve broke away from talking to the police, took the phone from Clint and said in a very no-nonsense tone, “Hank? Jan is very upset. She needs you right now. So come down and pick her up right now.” He handed the phone over to Janet and returned to his conversation with the officer.

While the police continued their investigation, Steve called his insurance agent to discuss his options and if he had to wait for her to see the damage or if photos were good enough. By the time he had finished negotiations about cleaning up the shop and getting Captain Coffee open again, Peter had reported for his shift and Janet was gone.

“Clint, can you stay tonight?” Steve asked.

“Sure, as long as you need me,” Clint replied.

“Okay, as soon as the police give the go-ahead – Peter, take pictures of the damages and, Clint, start on the clean-up.” He tossed his phone to Peter to use for the pictures. 

Steve went back to his office and began to call Bruce, Nat, Bucky and Sam. The police came by and Steve gave them a copy of the footage from the webcam of the attackers coming through the door and leaving. They couldn’t promise Steve anything about finding the vandals but gave him their cards and cleared him to start the clean-up.

Bruce, Bucky, Nat and Sam showed up to help with the all-night clean-up. They played the radio loud as they swept up the trash and set up the furniture. Bucky and Bruce had brought their own coffee makers and Bruce was setting them up and fixing the register. An old friend of Steve’s, Jim, brought over some of his unused equipment from his closed coffee shop, Invaders Café. Clint did his best to make the whole process feel like a party by playing DJ, joking around and making a competition out of various tasks. The biggest surprise was Tony, who had somehow had found out about what had happened and sent them Thai take-out. They finished just three hours before the start of business on Sunday and the shop was in decent shape to serve customers. But enough significant damage had been done that the shop just didn’t feel the same anymore. 

With some sense of satisfaction, Steve put up his open flag and set out a sandwich board with Sunday’s specials. He looked around to see if Schmidt was watching from somewhere on the street, but didn’t see anyone. It would be rough going until he was able to replace the commercial machines. But, they were open for business and that’s all that mattered right now.

 

Sam came by during Steve’s evening shift on Monday with dinner to see how Steve was doing. “Any news?”

“Won’t be getting the insurance check for a few months,” Steve said. “My agent can only start the process once the police report is filed.” 

“What are you going to do about fixing things?” Sam asked. 

Steve sighed. “I’ve got a lead on some new-to-me machines from a restaurant supply place.” He began to tap on the table. “Customers have been great -- people have been stopping by to see how we’re doing. But --” He rubbed his hand on his neck and huffed. “The police can’t promise anything. Jan and Clint are going to the station tomorrow to look at mug shots to see if they recognize the guys who did this.”

He looked around the shop. “You know what bothers me the most? It’s not the money or the other stuff, it’s all the bare walls,” Steve said, with a bit of anger. “They didn’t have to destroy the artwork. And they ripped it to shreds.” 

Sam said, “What --”

“That’s not all,” Steve interrupted. He started tearing napkins into strips. “It’s all been building up -- little things here and there. And now this. Jan could have been hurt or worse. Or something could have happened to Clint.” He groaned. “I’ve put too much into this place and it’s just destroying me to watch Schmidt ripping it apart.” Then he hit the table. “And I have no idea what to do. I can’t let the staff or my customers down. And I can’t give Schmidt any ammo to use against me. All I can do watch, report and keep it all going in the meantime.” Then he looked Sam straight in the eye. “I don’t handle not being able to do something well. It’s killing me that I can’t just _do_ something.”

Sam smiled sympathetically at him. “Steve, have faith. It’s all going to work out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve replied. 

Just as he was shutting down the shop for the night, Steve checked his phone to find that Tony sent some texts. He smiled to read Tony asking him if he was okay or if he needed anything, like a hitman or something like that. Seeing that Tony cared meant a lot to Steve. He sent a text back thanking Tony and saying he was okay.

 

Late Wednesday night in his apartment, Steve carefully went over his financials and checked the shop budget. He would have to pay out-of-pocket to replace all the broken machines, the wasted supplies, the artwork and some of the furniture that had been damaged. If he waited for the reimbursement check to start replacing equipment, it could damage his business and his ability to serve his customers. His customers could go somewhere else, and when the shop was back in shape, they might not come back. Steve wasn’t willing to risk it.

Now it was clear what Schmidt was trying to do – ruin Steve financially, bit by bit, so he would have to sell, or worse, close the business entirely. 

Steve had the money and credit available to pay for the replacement equipment and furniture, and he could continue to borrow Jim’s equipment for the foreseeable future. But doing so would eliminate his meager financial cushion. Looking around his small apartment, Steve thought hard. If he gave up the apartment and sold his furniture and most of his possessions, it would give him the reserves he needed to withstand Schmidt’s attacks. He just needed to be more tenacious than Schmidt expected and stay in business until Schmidt gave up. 

He could sleep on Bucky’s couch for a while. And when he was on solid ground again in a few months, he could find another apartment and a roommate or two to keep expenses down. He had a few possessions he had to keep – his clothes, a few pictures, his computer, the easel – but everything else could go. He would talk to his landlord and Bucky in the morning and start listing his household belongings and furniture online tonight.

Steve would do whatever it took to stay in business. His staff depended on him. And he was not going to let them down.


	10. Party at Jan's

On his way to work a couple of weeks after the attack, Steve passed by Erskine’s restaurant, a beautiful place on a busy corner a few blocks over from the shop. Steve was beginning to love his early morning walk from Bucky’s apartment to the shop in the cool of the pre-dawn darkness. He was still adjusting to not living above his shop any longer, yet he seemed to be spending even more time at the coffee shop these days.

Abraham Erskine was sweeping the sidewalk in front of his restaurant. “Steven, good morning,” he said cheerfully in his thick German accent.

“Abraham,” Steve acknowledged.

“Come in for breakfast, if you have the time,” the stout older man said. 

Steve paused for a minute to consider his schedule and then said he had time. Abraham ushered Steve into the restaurant and made him sit in a corner table. Steve loved the architectural lines of Erskine’s place, the line of windows on two sides of the large dining room, vintage woodwork and an oak plank floor. In short time, Abraham served him a fantastic omelet and sausage breakfast.

“So how are things?” Steve asked.

Abraham shrugged. “So-so. The grandkids are terrific. But the wife wants me to retire, I’m not so ready. But tell me what happened to your shop – everyone has been talking about it.”

Steve gave him the short version of what happened. Erskine listened with sympathy. “Eh, such awful people,” he said. “You have allies, Steven, among the independent business community.” He clapped Steve’s shoulder warmly. “A big boy like you should eat well. More?”

Smiling over his juice, Steve nodded. Despite his recent problems, it was good to have friends supporting him. And Erskine had a lot of good business and life advice for him.

 

Steve watched a baseball game on television while Bucky and Nat got ready for Jan’s party. It wasn’t so much that Bucky didn’t have anything to wear, it was that Nat didn’t like what he wanted to wear. Apparently from the way the conversation was going, they agreed on the jeans. The sticking point was the shirt. “Come on, Nat, I know everyone there. No one cares,” Bucky groused.

“Baby, I do. I don’t think it’s too much to wear a shirt without stains or holes that was made in this century,” Nat replied. “You’re too cute to dress like you pulled your clothes out of the garbage.”

“Steeeeeeve, Nat’s being mean to me,” Bucky whined.

“You’re on your own with that, Buck,” Steve said with a laugh. 

They came out from the bedroom and Bucky swatted at Steve. “Let’s get going, buddy.” When Steve stood up, Bucky turned to Nat and said, “Hey, what about him? Does he pass your high standards?”

Nat gave Steve in his dark jeans and blue button-down shirt a cool appraising look. “Eh, he’s passable.” Pulling Bucky closer, she kissed him. “I care about what you wear. Steve can find his own fashion critic.”

They walked to Jan’s brownstone. She lived in a second-story apartment in an old brownstone in Williamsburg proper a few blocks over from the coffee shop. Steve had not been to her apartment before but he could guess where it was in the building from music booming down the stairwell. “Hey guys, up here!” Jan said with a wave as she leaned over the stair railing.

Dazed by the number of people already in Jan’s three-bedroom apartment, Steve waded into the party following Jan’s merry voice. “Come on in, I’ll take your jackets,” she said over the noise. She hugged Nat and relieved Bucky of their hostess gift of beer. She tugged at Steve and said over her shoulder, “Food and alcohol in the kitchen.” On her way to her bedroom to drop off the jackets, she detoured into the kitchen to retrieve a beer. She pressed it into Steve’s hand. “See, I got you that beer you like.” Turning to a man with sandy hair standing near them, she said, “Oh, Hank, this is Steve. Oh – um – I guess you both like coffee.” Then she was gone. 

It turned out that Hank had lots of interesting things to say about ants and biology. An obviously shy guy, he spoke passionately about his research on ants and his work as a research scientist. “Say, have you ever been to Jan’s Spring party before?” he asked in slight alarm as they saw Jan going to greet more people. 

“No. She did say that there were going to be lots of people,” Steve replied. It was still early at eight-thirty but Jan’s invite had said the party ended when no one was left standing. “Um, I wonder about her neighbors?”

“She told me she bribed them,” Hank offered. “I don’t know with what though. Had to have been a good bribe though, with all this noise.” Steve smiled in reply.

Soon enough, Steve was swept up into the party as he met Jan’s large collection of friends from all over. He discussed photography and art with her fashion industry friends and how hard it was to break into the fashion business. He met a socialite friend, who surprisingly also liked the Mets. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of Bucky and Nat. He bumped into Clint in the hallway, and Clint introduced him to Jan’s neighbors, who seemed to be just like her. And, at some point, Steve noticed that he was never without a drink, as Jan or Hank made sure he had something in his hand. He was developing a warm, all-over buzz from the alcohol.

On his back to the living room from the bathroom, Steve saw Jan in her workroom. She was showing Tony pieces from her fall line. “And this is the best coat I’ve ever done,” Jan said proudly to Tony as she held up a leather motorcycle jacket. She smiled at the hesitant Steve. “Hey, Steve, look who showed up. You know Tony from the shop.”

“Hi Tony, I didn’t know you were coming,” Steve said warily. He noticed that Tony was wearing a well-tailored dark grey suit with a purple shirt which showed him off beautifully. His mouth might have run a little dry at seeing Tony at his best.

“Didn’t know I’d have the time to come,” Tony said breezily. “I had a business dinner earlier and my associates actually had to leave sooner than planned. So, all dressed up and nowhere to go.” He picked up a glass of red wine from a table and sipped it.

“Um, well, good to see you,” Steve said. He had forgotten much about Tony, or maybe he had suppressed the memories. But it was all coming back to him, how Tony made his blood rush, and made him feel alive, wanted and desired. What would it be like to be lost in those beautiful eyes again?

“Come on, you two, back to the party,” Jan said pushing them into the living room.

Later, in a quiet moment, Steve had a chance to ask Jan about how she was doing as he helped her with a little clean-up in the kitchen. 

She paused in washing wine glasses. “I’m doing much better now that I talked to someone. It was all so unbelievable, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was. But nothing’s happened since,” he replied. “The cops don’t have anything they can use to charge anyone.” 

“Are you okay staying with Bucky? With all your stuff in storage?”

“It’s working out. And I’ve got offers from Sam and Clint to stay with them. Once I get another apartment, I can get my stuff.” Steve hadn’t told anyone the reason for leaving his apartment and let them think he had put his belongings into storage. He carefully dried the glasses and put them back on the kitchen table near the wine bottles.

Jan looked him over critically. “Rogers, are you drunk? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”

“No, I’m fine. Just buzzed, that’s all,” he said with a sloppy, warm grin. He couldn’t remember how much he had that night, but he had a very happy feeling towards everything and everyone in the world. 

“Okay. You can stay here, you know, if you don’t think you could make it home.”

He shook his head. “I’m going back with Bucky and Nat.”

Leaving the kitchen, he caught up with Nat and Clint in a small group of people. Listening to Clint’s elaborate story of his past competitive archery career, Steve scanned the crowd. Tony was in the opposite corner in the middle of his own story. He had ditched his suit coat and had a glass in one hand and was waving around the other. Steve would always know where Tony was in a crowd. He loved how Tony shone under the attention and the way his dark eyes sparkled. He noticed all the little movements of Tony’s lithe body as he talked and flirted with Jan’s friends. 

He thought his phone buzzed so he went back to Jan’s workroom to check for messages. For some reason, no one else was in the room so he had privacy. There were a couple of texts from Peter about where some item was, but with no further texts Steve suspected that Bruce solved the problem. He heard more than saw Tony enter the room. He slowly put his phone away. “Checking messages?” Tony said.

“Well, you know, work. Pete and Bruce are on shift and they’ve never worked together before.” Steve shrugged. Tony’s presence seemed to fill up the room. Steve wanted to look somewhere else, anywhere else. But his eyes were drawn to Tony, quiet and intense.

“I heard from Clint that you’re couch surfing at Bucky’s now.”

“Oh, I’m looking for a change. Something new, I guess. The lease was up so it was a good time to go.” Steve had things under control and had convinced himself things were getting better. They had to.

And while he might be holding his own, Tony was shining brighter than the stars tonight. Steve realized he might be more than slightly tipsy. He started to move towards the door. As he brushed past Tony, Tony reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. They stood there for just a second. Steve could smell the faint scent of Tony’s cologne, feel the lovely warmth of Tony’s hand on his arm, gaze into the depths of his brown eyes, and sense the entirety of Tony in front of him and how real and present Tony was in that moment, eclipsing everything else. _Stop_ , his inner Steve warned him, _you’re drunk, Tony’s drunk, you’ll regret this_.

Steve was in no mood to listen to his more rational inner voice. Surging forward, he kissed Tony, meaning it to be only a quick peck on the lips. But next thing he knew, he put his arms around Tony, pulling him closer to kiss harder and longer. Tony melted into him as they deepened the kiss with lips, teeth and tongues.

“Where are the coats?” Tony asked, slightly breathless when they broke their embrace.

“Bedroom.”

“Get them while I call for Happy.”

Steve nodded and went to get his jacket and Tony’s suit coat. He paused in front of Jan’s bedroom. He had an escape route. He could stop this now. But he wanted Tony. He wanted the comfort of his arms, the fierceness of his kisses, the friction of his body. He wanted whatever Tony wanted to give. 

And Tony wanted him back. He knew it in his bones and could feel it in Tony’s kiss and embrace. 

He had longed for that feeling of being wanted by Tony so much and so long. Now he had Tony in the palm of his hand. Steve didn’t care what happened after, but he was going to leave with Tony, come hell or high water. So he got their belongings, retrieved Tony from the workroom, might have said something to Jan or Hank on their way out, and hustled down to the curb to be picked up. 

Much later that evening, as the party began to wind down, Bucky realized in shock he had not seen Steve for two hours. “Um, where’s Steve?” he asked Jan in the kitchen.

“He left with Tony,” Jan said with a chuckle. “You should have seen them, couldn’t keep their hands off each other.” She smiled broadly as she picked up empty bottles from around the counters.

Slumping against the doorframe, Bucky groaned. “Damn it, Van Dyne, what’s wrong with you? You should have told me.”

“What? You’re Steve’s keeper now? And what’s so bad about Steve leaving with Tony?” she asked. “I think that they are cute together. And Steve could use a nice person in his life right now.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

Jan looked at him blankly. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay, fine.” He gritted his teeth. He told her the whole story from when Steve and Tony met to when Tony had his secretary call Steve to tell him he was moving out to California and would not be coming back to New York.

Jan looked thunderstruck. “Tony did that?”

“Yes,” Bucky hissed. “And he had Steve sign some sort of settlement contract three months later so Steve couldn’t claim credit or ownership of any of Tony’s patents. He’s a cold bastard, that Tony.” Bucky sighed. “He’s bad for Steve, really bad.”

“Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry – I really had no idea. I would have said something, I swear, if I knew,” Jan said regretfully. “Really sorry.”

As they waited for the cab, Nat rubbed Bucky’s shoulders. “Not your fault, baby,” she said gently.

“I know, I know. But I hate seeing Steve get hurt. He puts everyone first and himself last and he’s a great guy and deserves to be loved. Right now he’s going through a tough time, though he won’t complain at all. I’m his friend and should be looking out for him.” He sighed and kicked at the curb. “I don’t trust Tony as far as I can throw him, and he’s taking advantage of Steve, who is probably drunk, or as drunk as Steve gets. I should have checked in on him more. Damn it.”

He stopped his rant. He’d just have to be there when Steve called in the morning from wherever he ended up.


	11. Bad Decisions and the Men who Make Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and sending me such great comments. I really appreciate the support and interest in this little story.

For some reason, Steve thought at first that Tony had called a cab. When the dark-colored town car pulled up the curb, he hesitated but Tony opened the door and pulled Steve in after him. “Hey, thanks, Happy,” Tony said to the chauffeur. He turned to Steve, “My place?”

Steve was looking around the car as it began to register that this was not a cab. “Um, yes,” he replied. He realized this was the most expensive car he had ever been in.

“Home, then,” Tony continued. He learned into Steve who immediately put his arm around Tony’s shoulders.

“This is not a cab,” Steve said, slurring his words slightly.

“Nope. All mine and Happy works for me,” Tony replied happily in turn.

Steve smiled into Tony’s hair and shifted his arm to go around his waist. He murmured, “Spoilt.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting the finer things in life.” Tony turned up to kiss Steve. “All sorts of finer things.”

Steve ran a finger along Tony’s jaw and lifted his face to kiss him again. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t spoiled.”

“You’re going to hate my apartment, aren’t you?”

“Why would I do that?” Steve played with Tony’s hair, twining wavy strands around his finger. 

“I have this Italian leather couch that is so bleeding edge in design …”

“Can you sit on it?”

Tony elbowed him. “It’s a couch, of course you can. Not everything needs to look like it was bought it from some knock-off Pottery Barn.” He burrowed some more into Steve and his warmth. “I have a wall that’s begging for some art.”

“I’m really only sketching these days.”

“Oh, come on, something for me? Isn’t it like riding a bike, all you have to do get on and you remember it all?”

“It’s not like engineering, I need the inspiration,” Steve replied fondly. They were falling into the old, comforting rhythms of their conversations. “I need to see something that makes me want to take out the canvases and oils. Something that needs that medium for me to express what I see.” He could almost guess what Tony was going to say next. Something about engineering being an art too.

But Tony said nothing. He took the opportunity to kiss Steve some more as they were swept along the midnight streets of New York. Tony leaned into him again, his head in Steve’s shoulder, his breath warm on Steve’s chest. As he watched the street lights reflected in the car windows, Steve ran his hand down Tony’s arm and back over and over again. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have Tony in his arms again.

Happy pulled into an underground garage and dropped them off at an elevator. Tony spoke quietly to Happy, thanking him for the pick-off and sending him home. He then tugged Steve into the elevator. Steve was disoriented from the alcohol and all the signs of Tony’s new life as a tech mogul. It still was Tony, the same brilliant smile, the same sense of humor, and the same warm eyes and hands. But there was a newness there too, an unexpected sadness behind Tony’s eyes, an undefined brittleness in his words. Tony clung to Steve as the elevator whisked them up to Tony’s apartment.

Once inside Tony’s apartment, Tony flipped on a couple of lights. Steve could see that the apartment was far larger than Bucky’s hole in the wall. Coming up and hugging Steve from behind, Tony murmured into Steve’s ear, “Want the quarter tour? This is the living room here, the kitchen is over there, there are a couple of rooms over there.” He pushed Steve forward. “The master bedroom is through there.”

Tony attempted to turn on the lamp on the bureau but Steve pulled him into a fierce kiss and began to tug on his pants. Tony gave in to Steve’s urgent fumbling and they started to work each other out of their clothes. Steve had dreamt about Tony naked and willing in his arms for a while and now here he was. And it was happening, right now. His skin tingled wherever Tony touched and caressed him, sending arousal singing through his body. Tony kissed his jaw, down the column of his neck, and his collarbone, then he playfully nipped his shoulder. “Come to bed, Steve, we’re wasting time,” Tony said in a low sultry voice. Steve would go anywhere when Tony talked to him like that.

Desire pooled in Steve’s stomach and his mouth ran dry as he let Tony pull him into an enormous bed. He wanted Tony, wanted to touch and be touched. Pushing Tony into the bed and pinning his arms above his head, Steve kissed his face, neck, and chest as Tony writhed and bucked under him. God, it felt good against Tony as they sought more friction from each other. Steve sought the familiar spots on Tony’s body which drove Tony crazy and made Tony moan and beg. He sucked bruises into Tony’s skin as Tony gasped into his ear. His hips rolled and pressed against Tony, bringing their hardening cocks into contact. This is where Steve wanted to be, to be close to Tony, to please him, to hear Tony moan his name, and to be open and vulnerable with him. Tony meant everything at this moment. 

Remembering where Tony used to keep the lube, Steve reached over to the bedside table and fumbled around in the drawer. Steve paused after he retrieved it. The spirit might be willing and needy, but he was tired, and the alcohol was starting to take its toll. Impatient, Tony nudged him into action. Steve slicked up his hand and pulled Tony on to his side. He groaned as he wrapped a hand around both their cocks. An electric shock bolted through him as they began to thrust against each other. Tony gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he urged Steve to move faster. Steve began to pant with need and his hand moved faster up and down. Sweat broke across his forehead and chest and the weight of Tony’s body against his filled his senses. Tony leaned his sweat slick forehead on Steve’s shoulder as he thrust into Steve’s grip more urgently. Steve kissed and licked Tony, eager for the taste of his skin. Mouth dry, nerve endings sparking, desperate for release, Steve felt closer and closer to the edge. His thrusts became erratic. He looked down into Tony’s eyes, brown irises blown wide, and kissed him. Tony cried out and collapsed limply against Steve as he came. Steve thrust a couple of times more and then his release rolled quickly through him. Coming down, he felt a happiness and lassitude flow over him as Tony held and kissed him gently.

Steve could lay there satiated for the rest of the night. But he roused enough to get up and get something to clean up Tony and himself. He stumbled to the bathroom and found a washcloth. After finishing up his task, he returned the washcloth to the sink. Then, Steve leaned in the bathroom door frame and watched Tony turn towards him and give him a sleepy smile. In the light from the bathroom, Steve noticed a web of scars on Tony’s chest. 

“Hey, coming back to bed? Or just admiring the view?” Tony asked. 

“Both,” Steve replied. He turned off the light and reminded himself to ask Tony in the morning about the scars. Steve felt a faint worry knowing something unpleasant must have happened to Tony to cause those scars. Steve climbed onto the bed, pulled Tony into his arms, and drew the covers over them. He kissed Tony’s neck as he began to drift off to sleep. _Let me make you happy_ , he thought, _like you make me happy. Give me another chance._

 

Groggy from the night before, Steve wondered where he was as he woke up. Hazy memories of coming back to Tony’s apartment and what happened began to filter through. He blinked a couple of times and turned to the other side of the bed. Tony wasn’t there. Sitting up, he yawned and stretched. He guessed that was late in the morning from the amount of sunlight filtering through the blinds.

Laying back against the pillows, Steve fondly remembered many peaceful Sunday mornings in the past like this one. Mostly he’d be up early and go for a run. If he had worked late the night before, he would sleep in, wake up alone and find that Tony had brewed a pot of coffee and had gone to his workshop. Tony would bring breakfast back to their apartment after he thought that Steve was up. Or he would find Tony in the kitchen eating and tinkering on his latest mechanical creation. 

Steve smiled, thinking about Tony at work, his hands running through hair, smudges on his face, tip of his tongue sticking out. They should take it slow and see where it would go, but all that mattered now was that Tony was back and cared for him. He had questions for Tony about why they had broken up before and about the scars on his chest. But that could all wait for another time. A day of lazing about and maybe talking about future plans lay ahead.

Feeling unusually lazy, Steve decided against a shower and went straight for the coffee. Looking around the floor, for some reason Steve couldn’t find his clothes. He could figure out later where they were flung late last night. Tony’s clothes wouldn’t fit so he snagged a bathrobe and pair of sleep pants from the unbelievably huge closet and hoped for the best. 

Steve walked into the main part of the apartment. Tony had left the curtains open and the room was flooded with the morning sunlight. He had barely glimpsed Tony’s apartment last night. But in the daylight the apartment, with its open living plan, wood floors, and large windows overlooking Central Park, was spectacular. An interior decorator had decorated the place in the latest minimalist design with pieces of breathtaking examples of modern design furniture. It was completely Tony floor to ceiling. Steve ran his hand over the back of the leather couch and wondered how comfortable the couch was.

There was still no sign of Tony. Steve found a coffee maker in the kitchen and made coffee. He wondered where Tony could have gone without coffee first. He poured a cup and sat on a chair facing the windows. Drinking in the beautiful April morning, he thought more about Tony’s blank wall problem. Maybe he could paint something to reflect the view out the windows. He smiled as he began to visualize his feelings about the morning haze hanging over the trees just coming into leaf. He would have to come back later to see the afternoon light.

He was startled to hear someone opening the front door. He jumped up, expecting to see Tony walking into the apartment. With a broad smile on his face, Steve turned to say good morning. Then his stomach fell when he realized it was not Tony and he bit his tongue.

The person turned out to be a tall, strawberry blonde woman with a plain white bag, a coffee cup, and his clothes, pressed and bagged in clear plastic. “Good morning. Steve?” she said. “I’m Pepper Potts, Tony’s assistant.”

She seemed familiar. Steve said, “Have you been to the coffee shop?”

“Yes, Tony sends me in to get coffee. We’ve met but not formally,” Pepper said as she put the bag and cup on the kitchen bar. She held out Steve’s clothes. “I’ve had your clothes cleaned and pressed. Here’s breakfast.” She pointed to the bag. “I wasn’t sure what you liked for pastry -- donuts or something else.”

A wave of humiliation rolled through Steve. Here he was in Tony’s clothes and still had the faint scent of Tony all over him from the night before. But no Tony. Instead, here was Pepper, who he barely knew, and who brought him donuts, coffee and clothes in a very business-like manner, as if this sort of thing was something that she did regularly. And she had to know how Steve ended up here and what he’d been up to with Tony. Steve could not be more embarrassed or ashamed. He had been so so wrong about everything.

Pepper continued cordially, “There’s a car at your disposal to take you anywhere you like.”

Steve hated that he was hungry enough to actually look into the bag to see what Pepper bought. He pulled out a donut and ate it. The donut tasted like dry dust in his mouth. He was very much aware of Pepper’s bright, watchful eyes, waiting for him, willing him to go now. Even though he already knew the answer, he had to ask. “Tony?”

Pepper’s cheerful voice and demeanor went flat and blank. “He’s not available.”

“Right, of course.” He paused to think. He really needed a shower, was very hungry, and desperately wanted to be anywhere else in the world other than here. “Excuse me,” he said as he went to change in the bedroom. He located his wallet, phone and keys and was ready to go.

As he came out of the bedroom, Pepper was already seated in one of the chairs and engrossed in her laptop. “Steve, can I get you anything?”

He grabbed the breakfast pastries and coffee. “No, I’ll take the subway. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” she asked compassionately. “Happy would be glad to drive you home.”

Something hardened in Steve. Now that he knew where he stood with Tony, he just wanted to leave and never mention what had happened to anyone, ever. “I’m fine. Thank you. Goodbye,” he said politely but curtly.

Once out of the apartment and on his way home, Steve thought miserably about how deceived he had been and that he didn’t want to see anyone today, anyone at all.

 

Tony rented a portion of his building’s basement from his Co-op Board. With a little effort and some dry-wall, he had turned it into a passable workshop, a place he could work when he woke up in the middle of the night with a idea or two. He was in the middle of soldering when Pepper arrived with coffee and donuts.

Grateful for the coffee, he sat back and pushed his goggles to the top of his head. Pepper pulled up a stool and sat down across from him. “Steve left, in case you were wondering,” she said. 

He had been wondering. “Oh, okay.” 

“You have most of the day free. There’s dinner tonight with a Mr. Parker from the bank at 7,” she said as she scrolled through Tony’s schedule. “Business?”

“Not the original plan,” Tony admitted. Tim Parker was a very attractive man but Tony had suddenly lost interest. “We’ll end up talking about stocks and investments, I guess.”

Pepper out down her tablet. “Tony, what’s the deal with Steve? I’ve been doing clean-up for you for four years now, and this is the first time I really hated it.”

“It’s just Steve,” Tony said dismissively. “I’ve known him forever.”

“I know who Steve is,” she replied quietly. “He’s not just a one-night stand.”

Tony ran his hand over his face and sighed. He did not want to talk about this. Steve was a bad decision and full of questions Tony didn’t want to answer. Better just to hole up in his workshop and avoid Steve’s hopeful face. “Pep, no, no, and nope, not going there.”

“Tony, I think he still loves you.”

And didn’t he know it? He distinctly remembered the blissful look on Steve’s face as he slept next to him. Then he imagined Steve waking up in his room. And Tony could feel the panic rise in him again, that need to run far far away and not ever come back. “Tomorrow. What’s my schedule tomorrow?”

She went over the two morning meetings and the webinar over lunch. “You have two free hours after lunch but you have your appointment with Dr. Chen at 3 pm.”

“Already? I thought I saw him last month.”

“You saw him two months ago. You are not in the clear yet, Tony.”

He pulled his goggles down. “Yeah, yeah.” He thought for a second. “Maybe you could send Steve flowers or something memorable for a great evening.”

Pepper rolled her eyes and sighed. She clearly thought that nothing Tony sent could ever make up for his behavior this morning. She was probably right, Tony thought. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“Have a good rest of the day off,” he said, waving her off. She didn’t move at first, a question on her face. But Tony was not in the mood, and ignored her. After a moment Pepper left, profoundly dissatisfied.


	12. Interlude

The following Sunday, Steve and Bruce were setting up before opening for the day. It had been a rough week for Steve. Within a day of the party, everyone at the shop had heard that Steve had left with Tony. Steve didn’t say anything, but he was tight-lipped about what had happened, and Tony had not been seen at all. So Steve’s friends easily guessed that something had gone badly between them.

Steve appreciated their overtures of sympathy and kind words. But he really didn’t want to hear about the party or Tony again. Somehow, he had let his head get turned by Tony’s smile and remembered only the good times. The morning after had been an unpleasant reminder of the bad parts of their relationship and what Tony was like at his worst. He had learned his lesson finally and now vowed to put Tony back in the past where he belonged.

Bruce was working behind the counter. He was trying to do some early morning shifts again on the weekends. “So what do you think about offering cookies for sale?”

Sitting at one of the tables, Steve was reorganizing the tea supplies. He had no idea how the tea bags had gotten this mixed up. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ve had customers ask for cookies and brownies in the afternoon.”

Sighing, Bruce said, “I haven’t found a brownie recipe I like or trust yet. But Monday, I’ll have some chocolate chip cookies.”

“Let me know the cost and I’ll price them out.” 

“So, Jan was telling me about the party the other day,” Bruce ventured. “And Tony.”

“Yeah, everyone’s been talking about it. Jan told me that it was all about me trying to find closure. And that it was okay whatever happened.” Steve much preferred Sam’s approach of going out for a beer at a sports bar and complaining about the Knicks to Jan’s let’s-talk-about-it. He looked down at the boxes. Organizing the tea bags was turning out to be a bigger job that he planned.

“She actually said “closure”?” Bruce asked.

“Uh huh,” Steve grunted. He finally gave up and emptied the boxes of tea bags over the table. He began to sort through the bags and putting them back in the boxes.

“Ugh.” Bruce said feelingly as he wiped down the counter. “The last thing I needed from my friends when I broke up with my girlfriend was relationship advice.”

Steve turned to Bruce, not sure what to say. It wasn’t really a break up. It was just Steve misreading Tony and making some very wrong assumptions.

Bruce continued, “I had this on and off girlfriend, Betty, in graduate school. When we were on, it was fantastic and then awful. When we were off, I forgot the awful and missed the fantastic. So we got together, broke up, got together again, but we never looked at why it didn’t work in the long run and if it could be fixed. Papering over the cracks in the wall doesn’t make the cracks go away.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Steve admitted.

Bruce shrugged. “Betty and I never worked it out. I thought dwelling on the past was the problem, but it was not learning from the past that was the problem.”

Returning to the counter and putting the boxes of tea away, Steve said, “Thanks, Bruce. That is actually good advice. Might have been helpful before the party.”

“I try my best,” Bruce replied shyly. “I’ve had a lot of counseling, guess it’s got to rub off sometime.”

Steve went to unlock the front door. “So what do you think about the saying that that living well is the best revenge?”

“I think stomping my enemies into the ground and dancing over their graves is more effective.” Steve laughed. Bruce shrugged again. “I’m still in counseling for the anger management. Don’t have any advice for that.”

 

On Tuesday morning, Steve sat patiently in a waiting room in the Organized Crime Control Bureau. He had been surprised when a secretary with the Bureaus called on Monday to say that a Nick Fury with the OCCB wanted to meet with him as soon as possible. Steve flipped through a magazine but couldn’t absorb any of the articles. The secretary had mentioned that Fury had wanted to meet with Steve over his recent police reports. Steve hoped that this detective would have news for him.

“Steve Rogers?” a woman with short, stylish brown hair asked. She was holding a dozen thick files and had a very no-nonsense attitude.

“Yes,” Steve replied, scrambling to get out of his chair. 

“I’m Maria Hill. I work with Detective Captain Nick Fury. This way,” she said.

She threaded their way through a large area filled with cubicles and file cabinets to a corner office. “In here,” she directed. Fury was seated at his desk, which was covered in more files. “Nick, Steve Rogers. Sit here, Steve.” Maria sat in the other chair and took out a legal pad.

Fury retrieved a couple of files from the piles on his desk. “So, Steve, I understand you’ve had some run-ins with a Johann Schmidt.”

Steve shifted in his seat. “He’s been trying to buy my business.”

“And I understand that since he made his first offer, you’ve had incidents of vandalism.”

He could see the police reports in the file that Fury laid out on the desk. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“... culminating in the recent incident with two men wrecking the inside of your shop,” Hill concluded. “Have your vendors started charging you more for goods? Customers mention being harassed on their way into your store?

“All that’s happened.”

“Mmm. That’s his modus operandi,” Fury said. He looked through a file. “He lowballs all his offers to buy other coffee shops.”

“Sire, I’m convinced that Schmidt is behind everything, but I can’t prove anything,” Steve offered.

“That’s the way he works,” Hill replied. “We’ve determined that he hires people to do his dirty work, but there’s no trace of money exchanged or anything to connect Schmidt to vandalism or other activities. His hands stay completely clean.”

Steve jerked his head and looked closer at Fury and Hill. “He’s done this to other businesses?”

“More than twenty. He targets independent coffee shops and cafés in particular. He drives up their costs through pressuring their vendors to raise prices and harasses them through petty vandalism. So far, everyone has caved and sold out to him.”

Steve thought about the other businesses. The fact that other people had been driven out of business by Schmidt’s bullying bothered him greatly. “Can we stop him?”

“Well, that’s where you come in. You’re the only one who has held out on selling to him. Why?” Fury asked.

“He’s not offering a reasonable price for the business, and I don’t like being pressured to do something I don’t want to do,” Steve said. “I’ve been holding my own. He can’t keep doing this, can he? He’s got to cut his losses at some point.”

Hill and Fury exchanged meaningful looks. “Actually, we think he could escalate the pressure. But we’re here to stop him. We’ve been tracking his activity and have been building a case against him.”

“And what I can do?”

“Just keep on keeping on,” Fury said. “Report to me anything that happens – any new vandalism, any changes for your vendors or landlord, anything. We need evidence about his actions. We’ve only heard about his activities after people have sold out to him. No one thinks it’s him until too late. Again, you’re the only one who had a clue it was Schmidt who was behind the harassment.”

“I’ll be glad to do that.”

“Good. Hill will be your contact. I’ll warn you, this could take some time, but this is the only way to stop Schmidt.”

Steve nodded. He took Hill and Fury’s cards and said he would send photocopies of the log they were keeping at the shop. He shook their hands and said that this was the best news he had heard in days.

As he left, Fury warned him further, “Schmidt is going to take it personally. It could get worse.”

“I’ll be ready,” Steve stated firmly. “I’ve been expecting it.”

 

Sam was already at the bar. Steve swung his messenger bag over the back of the chair and ordered a draft beer. “Heard from Bucky that you took the day off,” Sam said. 

“Haven’t had a day off for a long time,” Steve replied. After breakfast, he had packed up a lunch, his sketchbooks and box of pencils and pens and headed off to Central Park. “Spent the day sketching trees.”

“You should do that more often. You look the best I’ve seen you in ages.” 

Thinking about it, Steve did feel better and stronger than he had in months. He really did need to take time off to sketch and maybe even get back to painting. Take art classes again. Why had he forgotten how important art was to him? “Did you order anything to eat?” he asked Sam as he scanned the bar menu.

“I left that up to you and your hollow leg.”

Steve smiled and placed an order for wings and nachos with the waitress. He told Sam about meeting with the Organized Crime detectives. “They seem confident that they can get Schmidt on racketeering and a few other charges.”

“That would be good. By the way, Bucky told me about the party. Again.”

“Yeah, he’s just looking out for me. And he’s angry about Tony.” Steve sipped from his beer and watched a bit of the baseball game. “I shouldn’t have fallen for Tony like that.”

“Hey, you were drunk, and he’s an ex. Happens all the time.”

“I didn’t need the excuse of being drunk. I was ready to take him back, no questions asked. I thought that’s what he wanted.”

“And what do you want, Steve?” Sam asked. 

Steve thought for a long time. Sam didn’t push and watched the television. “I have questions about why he dumped me. Why we broke up. I still want to know why,” Steve finally admitted. 

“Nothing wrong with that, Steve. Tony never told you anything.”

The waitress brought them more beer with their food. “Tony, he just pushes all my buttons. All he has to do is smile at me, and I …. It doesn’t matter. He wants me, he doesn’t want me, then he wants me. I don’t want to put up with these games.” Steve tucked into the food.

His friend snorted. “Tony’s a mess, Steve, you knew that when you started dating.”

“I’m over the worst, or thought I was over it. For a while there I thought that I shouldn’t have said anything to him, and he wouldn’t have dumped me.” Steve sighed. “I’m good at standing up for other people and fighting the good fight, but not good at standing up for me.”

Sam rubbed Steve’s shoulder. “It will all work out. Or else Bucky will kill Tony.”

He laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. But I told him he has finals coming up so he has to get through those before doing anything drastic. So now, he’s focussed on getting through ‘America and the Cold War’ -- the professor is very demanding.”

“Bucky’s never happy. Anyway, let me tell about my weekend plans. Leila wants to throw this party for her family …”

Steve smiled, listening to Sam tell him his news and plans. They stuck around the bar for another hour talking about this and that. He was glad to have Sam to drag him out to bars and joke about movies and television shows and commiserate over lousy sports teams. Then Sam got a text from his girlfriend about getting coffee and milk on his way home. They sorted out the bill and paid for the drinks and appetizers.

“I should get going,” Sam said, standing up. “Hey, you know, you can never tell how someone will handle a crisis. Some people rise to the challenge, some people fail. People can surprise you.”


	13. Tony

After being informed of the car accident that took the lives of his parents, Tony returned back to New York to find his father’s company in shambles, his trust funds raided and drained, and his future very much in the hands of people he despised. People supposedly wiser and smarter than him told him to sell off the remaining assets of the company, give up and just go work for another company. But Tony, full of ideas and fight, retrenched and reformed Stark Industries as a scrappy start-up and poured his heart into rebuilding. Exiled to Brooklyn to begin over, he vowed to fight every day until he was finally in a position where he never needed to answer to anyone but himself.

Early in his war against the tech and business world, Tony trudged home one day in the rain from a terrible business meeting. Soaked to the skin and feeling low, he slunk into a coffee shop to buy some liquid warmth. Still processing how he might overcome his latest defeat, he barely glanced up at the guy manning the register. The man handed over an extra large coffee and asked compassionately, “Tough day, buddy?”

Tony then drank the best coffee he had ever had in his life. He looked up into the bluest eyes he had ever seen. “Yeah, you know. Turkeys getting me down.”

“It always gets better,” the man said with an angelic smile.

Tony gulped down more coffee. He was tempted to reply in his usual sarcastic manner, but there was something so warm and positive around this angel that he had nothing to say in return.

That’s how Tony met kind, thoughtful Steve, who smiled at Tony brightly whenever he came to the shop. How could Tony resist such a gorgeous man, inside and out? Within a year of dating they moved into together. And it was the best time of his life. Tony had finally started going places and making inroads into the tech world. Then he got a call one day from his father’s old friends and business associates about some business opportunities. He looked over at Steve innocently sleeping away next to him and thought how he wanted to give Steve the world. Working with these people, he would be able to grow the company infinitely faster and secure the financial future for Steve that he deserved. He agreed to go out to California to meet with them.

Thinking back on it, Tony should have said no and hung up. Better yet, never returned Stane’s call.

 

The Tuesday morning after Jan’s party, Tony and Pepper met with his lawyers to discuss the recent acquisition of a small tech startup. Tony liked what the med tech startup was doing to develop better pacemakers. Then one of lawyers brought up due diligence and said Tony needed to go out to San Francisco to inspect the business. 

“Make the reservations, Pepper. We’ll be out there as soon we can. Spend the weekend even,” Tony said.

The lawyers packed up and one of them stayed behind to check plans with Pepper. Tony smiled as the man tried to flirt with her as they briefly discussed flights. Some people just didn’t have any game.

Finally free of her admirer, Pepper sat down and groaned. “You have no idea what this trip is going to do to your schedule.” She began to scroll through his calendar on her tablet.

“Well, that’s the way of the world,” Tony said expansively. He turned around in his chair to look out the windows. Not the best view, since he could see only the street far below and the skyscraper across from his office.

“By the way, Tim Parker emailed about rescheduling your date,” she mentioned.

“Yeah, I cancelled it.” Tony sighed. “Don’t plan to ever reschedule.”

“Have you called Steve back?” she asked. She started typing furiously on the screen.

“He’s blocking my calls and texts,” Tony admitted. “He seems angry.”

“You think? I have no idea why he would be angry with you,” Pepper said drily.

“Sarcasm does not become you, Pep.” Tony probably should not have been as surprised as he had been when he first tried to reach Steve the day before.

Pepper stood up. “I’ll email you the schedule for the flights and meetings. I’m warning you, the flight is going to be at the crack of dawn.”

“You can’t do better?”

“No, not until you buy your own plane,” Pepper replied. 

“Why, Pep, it’s like you’re punishing me or something.” 

“Really, Tony? You’re inconvenienced because you have to take a commercial flight out to San Francisco so you can buy your third company this year? You’ve been really obnoxious since Sunday and I’m not going to put up with your attitude,” she stated firmly. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, Pepperpot. It’s not a big deal. But maybe a later flight …”

“You’re going to get what I can book for you.”

 

On the way back from San Francisco, Tony was preoccupied reading over contracts. Seated next to him, Pepper finished up her own work and closed her tablet. “So, what happened?” she asked casually.

“Hmmm?” he said around the pen in his mouth.

“Between you and Steve. What happened?”

“Pepper, I’m not talking about Steve.”

“We have nearly three hours before we land in New York, and you owe me.”

“Nope, nope, nope.”

“Tony. You had me take care of Steve like he was just another one-night stand. But I know you care deeply about him. If you love him, like I suspect you do, why on earth would you do something like that?”

Tony continued to ignore her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tony, and I’m going to keep asking until you tell me,” Pepper insisted.

Tony sighed, put his pen down and folded up the tray. “Fine. I’ll tell what happened between Steve and me,” he spat out.

 

Five years earlier, he had gone to California. It had been amazing experience from the minute he landed. Obadiah Stane met him at the airport and dropped him off at the priciest hotel Tony had ever stayed in, all expenses paid. Stane and his father’s old friends wined and dined him, talking up how he was a chip off the old block. Tony made his presentations, demonstrated his technology and products, laid out his business plans and detailed what he needed financially to expand. He was brilliant and dazzling and he had them hooked. They showered him with money and contracts.

After that last successful meeting, Stane slapped Tony on the back and congratulated him. Tony was eager to get back to the hotel and call Steve to tell him the great news. But when Tony said something about turning in early, Stane said sneeringly, “Come on, Tony, the night’s still young. Ignore the ball-and-chain for one night. You’re too young to be that whipped. Call her tomorrow.” Tony froze. Steve would understand for one night why Tony didn’t call. But Tony knew instinctively he could never tell Stane about Steve. After that, Tony never mentioned having someone back home.

Tony hopped into the car with Stane and they met up with some of the bankers at a restaurant. The men complained about their wives and girlfriends, made fun of other businesses and the people who ran them, and, in general, were the sort of people Tony didn’t think highly of at all. The worst part was at the end of the evening when Stane told vile jokes. Tony tried to steer the conversation in a more tasteful direction and the men looked at him like he had three heads. It suddenly hit Tony how fragile the whole business relationship was. If Tony stepped out of line, everything he had been working for would collapse.

Steve’s sweet, sleepy voice on the phone reminded Tony why he was putting up with these jerks. All Tony had to do was work with Stane and his people for a little while to get his company on a good footing. And then he could say good-bye, and ignore Stane for the rest of his life. Steve would be very hurt if he knew what the people Tony were working were like. Tony knew Steve would probably insist that he not work with them. But Tony needed this. He needed Stane’s contacts and his ability to open doors that were shut to Tony. If Tony held steady, he would get everything he needed to make everyone happy and come out on top in the end.

Tony had always hated what his father had become. And now he was becoming his father, and he wasn’t even realizing it.

Each trip became more and more painful as he shuttled back and forth from Brooklyn to California. He loved the L.A. night life, and his business associates praised and flattered him. He was wildly successful in developing ideas and creating business during the day and had fantastic nights out on the town.

But things were deteriorating with Steve at home. They had fights on the phone that wore Tony out. He told Steve that he was doing this for them and he would be home soon. Then, in the middle of the worst fight they ever had, Steve asked Tony if he loved him. If Tony loved him, he said, then Tony had to make them the priority and be present in their relationship, because Steve felt he was the one holding everything together as Tony was slipping away.

Tony was still rattled the next day when Stane showed him a beautiful seaside condo in Malibu. 

“Hey, Tony, you should really move out to California,” Stane said with a broad grin. 

Unlike his conversations with Steve, all day people told Tony how wonderful he was, without a single argument or demand.. Tony knew it would be good for business to be in California permanently. He got along with Stane as long as he ignored Stane’s unpleasant side, which came out in force when he drank. 

Tony bought the condo the very next morning and made his plans to move.

He knew that he had failed Steve. Unable to face Steve directly, he had other people tie up his loose ends with Steve. He went over to the apartment while Steve was at work and packed a few belongings, choosing to leave the rest behind. For sentimental reasons, if nothing else, he threw some photos of him and Steve, including the anniversary photostrip into the boxes.

At the lawyer’s office, he saw how devastated Steve was. It struck him hard that Steve looked exactly like Tony’s mother Maria had during his entire life. Sad and lost. Tony spent the rest of the day and night violently drunk, got on the plane to California, and swore to never come back to New York. 

But as it turned out, he had thrown his lot in with unreliable, conniving people who turned on him as soon as they could and tried to steal his company and patents from him. Tony deluded himself into thinking Steve that had not loved him, and had demanded too much from him. Fighting for his company, he lost himself for a few years in booze and women and men. Tony sighed and moved on when the actresses and models he dated, not looking for love, suggested marriage as a business merger instead. 

The only good that came out of his years in California was the best employee he ever had and one of his greatest friends – Pepper – and a renewed determination to be master of his own destiny. 

And then the universe had the last laugh. After experiencing some strong chest pains at dinner, a disoriented Tony was rushed into open heart surgery to fix a faulty heart valve, having dismissed increasingly debilitating and painful symptoms for months. Implanted with a new pacemaker, and stuck in cardiac intensive care with surgical scars on his chest, Tony found himself sidelined.

He spent his thirty-first birthday in a hospital bed, listening to his roommate as he bickered with his fourth wife and then whispered sickeningly sweet things to his mistress, who was clearly angling to be wife number five. The man bloviated on and on about the terrible business climate in the country, snuck alcohol, and hit on the nurses. To Tony it was like being stuck in a hospital room with his father. His roommate described his triple bypass surgery in depth, and Tony was shocked when the man said he was only fifty. “Only live once, right?” the man laughed. 

Appalled, Tony had no words. He told himself, he did not ever, ever want to be that man. 

Finally, after all these years, Tony understood his mother. Beautiful, cultured Maria, who loved his father and would have done anything for him. But in pursuit of business, Howard left her behind, probably thinking he was doing the best for her. Instead he lost it all. Tony never saw her happy, only the persistent sadness in her eyes as Howard drifted further and further away.

His roommate’s wife came by when the other man was out for a procedure. Tony gave her the name of a great lawyer, suggested that she check for overseas bank accounts and offered to give her a supporting deposition in the divorce. At least it was something.

That night, he called Steve, just to hear his voice. Steve’s voicemail ruined Tony. Everything about Steve he had ever loved, even the stubbornness, flooded over him and Tony was devastated as he realized what he had lost. He knew Steve would have been there for him if they were still together. Steve had loved him like no one else ever had. And Tony was sick to his stomach to know that it was too damn late to ever fix what he had broken.

“And after that we moved the company headquarters back to New York,” Tony finished. “I never thought Steve would talk to me again, much less consider taking me back. So I dated a few guys here and there, trying to find another Steve.”

Pepper sat stunned, tears brimming in her eyes. “But, if you wanted Steve, then why –”

“– did I hide in my workshop? I failed him before, Pepper, why wouldn’t I fail him again? He deserves so much better than me. I’m just going to wreck everything. He’s too important to me and I’ll just end up driving him away again.”

Pepper straightened in her chair and gave him a stern look. “Regardless of whatever garbage you think about yourself, Tony, you still need to apologize to Steve.”

“I know, I know,” Tony sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. I know I don’t want to end up like that guy in the hospital – 50 years old, with a triple bypass, and so hateful no one loves me unless I give them money.”

She shook her head. “That’s not going to happen to you, Tony. Not at all.” She squeezed his hand.

After the plane landed, Tony went back to his apartment. That night he couldn’t sleep, thinking of all the times that Steve had supported, encouraged and loved him. Steve had never held back anything from Tony. And in the end, Tony had been a terrible boyfriend who had failed Steve once and somehow couldn’t stop from failing Steve. 

He wanted to do something for Steve, who could use his help right now. He determined he would ruin Schmidt financially and put a stop to the expansion of Imperial Coffee.

In the morning, Tony met with his team of accountants and a couple of lawyers and laid out his plan. They were hesitant at first, but one lawyer piped up with ideas about getting the financials and how to go about the due diligence needed. The team hammered out the details for a fiduciary investigation of Imperial Coffee. At the end of the meeting, the lead accountant promised daily updates. 

Tony sat back in his chair, loving his people, their professionalism and their enthusiasm. Looking out his window, he thought about Steve.


	14. Darkest before Dawn

After the end of the business day on Saturday, Steve sent Peter home and locked the front door. He was staying late to work on the books and finish up some tasks in the shop. He yawned and ran his hand through his hair. He should call Clint to let him know that Steve would be coming to the apartment around midnight.

Steve was staying over at Clint’s since Bucky had asked if Steve could be out of their apartment for the evening. He mentioned that Natasha was coming over to help him study. Bucky couldn’t say that with a straight face. Steve only laughed at him and said he could find another couch to stay on.

Clint sounded vaguely annoyed on the phone when Steve called. His date had fallen through and he was stuck in his apartment desperate for something good on the television. He’d be up when Steve was off work and he’d let him in. “See you soon, Clint,” Steve said warmly. “I won’t keep you up.”

Business had been picking up on the weekends so Steve wanted to make sure that the work and service areas were well stocked so he and Bruce wouldn’t fall behind in the morning. He was pulling down a box from the shelves in the back when he heard a very loud alarm go off in the shop. He immediately thought that Schmidt was attempting to vandalize the shop again.

Steve ran to the front and felt the heat from the fire before seeing it. His eyes widened at the sight of fire spreading rapidly under the broken front windows. The fire was already consuming the chairs in a corner of the shop near the windows. The smoke burned his throat. It was too late and the fire too widespread for him to use the shop’s fire extinguishers. He raced over to the shop phone to call 911 to report the fire. As he was informed that firemen were on their way, Steve remembered his neighbors upstairs.

He used the back stairway to go upstairs and already a faint scent of smoke filled the hallways. He ran over who would be in the apartment building that night. His old apartment was being remodeled for the new tenants so no one was there. He frantically knocked on Mrs. Kravitz’ door and prayed that his elderly neighbor could hear. “Mrs. Kravitz, there’s a fire! You need to leave now!” he shouted. The fire alarm in the hallway started blaring.

Mrs. Kravitz opened the door. She looked disoriented and was struggling with her bathrobe. “Stevie? What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“Come on, Mrs. Kraviz, you need to get out of the building, there’s a fire on the first floor,” Steve said as politely and urgently as he could. 

He looked up to see Tom and Suriya from one of the third floor apartments running down the stairs. Suriya came over to Mrs. Kravitz and helped her with her coat. 

“Where are the Riveras? Nico, Gabriela and the kids?” Steve asked.

Tom looked at Suriya. He said, “Uh, I thought they were behind us. I knocked on their door and the alarm is going off.”

“I’ll check – take Mrs. Kravitz out of here.” The smoke was thickening in the air. 

“What happened, Steve?” Tom asked.

But Steve couldn’t answer – he was already more than halfway up the stairs to the third floor. The alarm was echoing in his ears and the smoke was already in the third-floor hallway. He pounded on the door to Nico and Gabriela’s apartment. “Nico! Gabriela! There’s a fire!”

He couldn’t hear any noise on the other side. He drew a breath and then he shoved the door hard with his shoulder. The door jamb cracked. He threw himself at the door with all his weight. The door jamb broke entirely and the door swung open. He could hear kids crying somewhere in the apartment, a shrill alarm going on in the apartment and the wail of sirens in the street outside the building. 

“Renata? Emma? Diego?” he asked, moving swiftly through the apartment. He found the three kids in their footie pyjamas huddled on the bed in the master bedroom.

“Mr. Steve?” one of the little girls asked. He gathered five-year-old Emma up in his arms.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said firmly. “Where are your parents?”

“Dad’s at work and Mom was here when we went to bed,” Renata said. At 8, she was the oldest of the three kids.

Three-year-old Diego had his hands over his ears. “Noise hurts,” he complained.

“It’ll be over soon, buddy,” Steve said. Gabriela must have stepped out to have a cigarette in the alley once the kids were asleep or taken the trash out and had been locked out when the alarms went off. “Renata, take Diego. We need to leave now.”

“Mama’s not here. We’re not supposed to leave home when she’s not here,” Renata said.

“There’s a fire downstairs, Rennie. It’s an emergency, she’ll understand.” Emma was clinging to Steve’s shirt and crying. 

The smoke was now filling the apartment. But that meant that the fire could have spread throughout the building and he might not be able to leave by the stairs. He went over to the window and was grateful to see the fire escape. He disentangled himself from Emma and put her on the floor. The kids had stopped crying and now were eerily quiet as kids get in scary situations. 

He coughed as he pushed the window open. His throat was feeling raw from the smoke he was breathing in and the outside air felt like a blessing. The fire escape was a bit rusty so he had force the ladder down. 

“Kids, we have to go down the fire escape now,” Steve stated calmly but urgently.

“Mama told us not to go on the fire escape,” Renata replied. 

“You trust Mr. Steve, right?” Steve asked. “We have to get out of here now and this is how we’re going to do it. Your mom’ll understand, sweetie.”

Steve dashed down to the second fire escape landing and lowered the ladder down to the ground. Then he raced up the ladder. He lifted Diego and Emma onto the landing and Renata clambered after. Steve ruffled Diego’s hair while the boy complained again about the noise of the alarms and sirens. 

He had to help toddler Diego down the ladder to the second landing. A couple of firemen had come into the alley checking on the fire escapes. One of them climbed up the ladder to help the two kids down. Then Steve went to check on Emma.

Emma had crawled back into the apartment and was clinging to the window sill. “Emma, you have to come with me,” Steve said. He breathed in more smoke. He grabbed her and pulled her out as she kicked and screamed. “It’s okay, Emma, we’ll be fine. We’ll find your mom.”

Steve was starting to wheeze. His chest hurt, his throat felt parched and his mind felt clouded. He pulled himself together enough to get Emma down the fire escape. He saw Gabriela, frantic and crying at the foot of the fire escape, her arms firmly around Renata and Diego. A fireman met him halfway down the ladder and he handed Emma off to him. He managed to get down the rest of the ladder, glad to touch ground again. Emma ran over to her mother and hugged her.

“Hey, wait right there,” one of the firemen said, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve was very disoriented and everything started to get blurry. He gasped for breath just like he had during the asthma attacks he had when he was a kid. “Get a paramedic over here!” someone shouted.

As Steve started to pass out, he heard one of the kids ask, “Is Mr. Steve going to be okay?” “Yes, honey, the nice people are going to take him to the hospital.” Then he blacked out.

 

It was the usual Sunday morning for Tony, holed up in his basement workshop. He was up to his neck in his latest project building a medical robot for surgeries. He barely heard the phone ring over the loud music playing. He surprised that Pepper was calling. “Talk to me, Pep,” he said.

“Steve is in the hospital, Tony,” she said. “There was a fire.”

He jumped to his feet. “What happened?” he shouted into the phone.

“There was a fire at the coffee shop and he was involved in rescuing people from the building. He’s in the hospital. The news report says that he’s being treated for smoke inhalation. But I don’t know more than that.”

Tony started pacing and tapping his hand on his thigh. Steve in the hospital. That can’t be good at all. “Where is he?”

“I’ll text you the information. Uh, Tony, he’s not going to want to see you.”

“I’m not going to jump him or make a scene – I just want to see how he’s doing. Oh – find me an open art supply store. And a get well card. Better still, meet me in an hour – I have to take a shower. I’ll send Happy to pick you up.”

Tony showered quickly, harshly scrubbing oil and grease off his skin, and barely styled his hair. He threw on some clothes and ran down to the curb where Happy was waiting with Pepper.

Pepper already had a get well card for Steve and some gift bags and wrapping paper in the car. Tony’s mind boggled again at how organized and put together Pepper was. She directed Happy to drop them off at an arts supply store she had found. Tony would have bought the whole place for Steve, but he limited himself to buying the pens, pencils and paper he remembered that Steve preferred to use. He had no idea why he thought giving Steve art supplies was a good idea. But somehow giving Steve flowers didn’t seem fitting.

While Tony fretted on the way to the hospital, Pepper packed up Tony’s purchase into a gift bag, complete with tissue paper and ribbons. She set the bag on the seat and admired her handiwork. “Do you want me to come in with you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You know, in case things go badly.” Bucky had probably set up permanent camp next to Steve, and he knew that Bucky was not Tony’s biggest fan at the best of times. 

Surprisingly, no one was in Steve’s room when Tony arrived. One of the aides said that Steve had had a lot of visitors all morning but his friends had just stepped out for lunch. Pepper patted Tony’s arm and said she would be in the lobby waiting for him. Tony was grateful for a few minutes with Steve alone. Putting his gift bag on the floor next to the bed, he sat down next to the sleeping Steve, hooked up to a respirator. He reached out to brush the hair off Steve’s angelic face. He sat for a half hour watching Steve sleep. 

Suspecting that Steve’s other friends would be coming back soon, Tony reluctantly tore himself away. He lifted Steve’s hand and kissed it. “Please get better soon, Steve,” he said. He thought he saw Steve smile.

On his way out of the hospital, Tony and Pepper stopped by the hospital billing office. Tony made arrangements to pay for all of Steve’s bills. When the administrator asked if he wanted Steve to know, Tony shook his head. “Tell him a charity paid for it.” 

“We can’t tell you everything because of confidentiality laws but I assure you your friend will have a good recovery.”

“Thanks,” Tony replied. That’s all one could hope for, really.

 

Steve woke up when he heard a nurse say, “Look, how pretty.” She held up the gift bag. He blinked a couple of times. “Is it okay to open it?” she asked. He nodded weakly.

She showed him all the pens, pencils, sketchbooks and pads of papers, all the brands and types that Steve liked best and used heavily. She then showed him the beautiful get well card. “Tony gave this to you. Must be one of your friends?” She went about adjusting the respirator and checking his vitals.

He thought he had dreamed that Tony had visited him. And Tony had. But he was too tired to feel anything but a slight confusion.


	15. Aftermath

Bucky walked through the fire-ruined coffee shop with Nat and Sam. The police and arson investigator had completed the preliminary investigation of the crime scene and allowed them in to look for Steve’s belongings. Bucky looked around at the soot-covered remains of tables and chair. The counter had warped, carafes cracked, and silverware melted from the heat. “Man, I have no idea how Steve is going to come back from this.”

Poking at the charred remains of some chairs, Nat asked, “Will Steve be able to meet with the insurance agent soon?”

Sam shook his head. “Steve’s eager to get out of the hospital and wants to meet with his landlord and agent as soon as possible. But I’m not allowing him here until he stops coughing.” They all had decided when Steve was discharged from the hospital later that day Steve would be better off staying with Sam and his girlfriend until given a clean bill of health.

“Did anyone check on his stuff in storage in the basement?” Bucky asked.

“No. We should though,” Sam stated.

“How much does he have down there?” Nat replied as they headed towards the basement.

Bucky and Sam looked at each other quizzically. “Steve’s been pretty vague. I think there are some boxes of his stuff with some furniture,” Bucky said.

“He told me that he had a storage unit,” Sam remarked.

They carefully picked their way down water-stained wooden stairs leading down to the building’s poorly lit basement. Before Sam said something about bringing a flashlight, they ran across a couple of Steve’s neighbors. They had a couple of camping lanterns set up as they sorted through some waterlogged boxes. “Hi, we’re friends of Steve,” Sam greeted them.

“Hi. Suriya and Tom, from the third floor,” the woman said as she stood to greet them. “How’s Steve?“

“He’s being released today – they’re just waiting for the results of tests,” Nat replied. “We’re just checking on the shop and wanted to find the stuff he stored down here.”

Suriya looked confused. “He didn’t have anything down here,” she said finally. Her boyfriend nodded in agreement.

“He said he was storing some furniture,” Bucky said looking around the basement.

“No – he sold off nearly everything. We bought his kitchen table,” Tom said. “I helped the guy who bought the couch move it out of Steve’s place.”

Bucky and Sam were shocked and silent. Nat said, “Thanks for the information.” She nudged the men to leave.

Upstairs, Bucky said through gritted teeth, “You know why he didn’t tell us. He didn’t want us to worry about him. Damn stubborn fool.”

“But, clearly, that’s how he was keeping this place going,” Sam reflected. He looked around the coffee shop. “Steve’s a smart guy – he pared down his expenses, did whatever he could to keep ahead of Schmidt. Hey, what about those cameras Tony installed?”

Nat said, “We can check the footage ….”

“But weren’t the cameras wired into the server in the back?” Bucky asked. “The fire took out the office too.”

“I set up remote backups for Steve’s server. You could get the footage from there,” Tony suggested. Dressed in a business suit, his hands in his pockets, he stood in the open doorway as if waiting for an invitation.

Bucky sighed harshly. “What the hell are you doing here, Stark?”

“Offering my help,” Tony said. “I know what happened and I want to help.”

“You’re not wanted here,” Bucky growled. “I have no idea why you’d even think that you could just swan in here after what you did to Steve.”

Regret all over his face, Tony said, “I’m here for Steve.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Like we can believe you. All I know is that for some reason, Steve was glad you were back in his life. I hadn’t seen him so happy in years. Then, after Jan’s party – you did something to him, and he’s been like a dead man ever since.” He walked up to Tony and poked him in the chest. “We’re Steve’s friends, you’re not. So get lost.” 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to make up for it, Bucky. I can help. Let me.”

“Didn’t you just –“

“Stop, Bucky,” Sam said. “Just stop. This isn’t helping.” He sighed. “Tony, like Bucky said, we’re not in the least bit happy with the way you treated Steve. But if you can recover the camera footage from the time of the fire, that would be great.”

“Can do. I don’t think that Steve changed the passwords after I set up the accounts. I’ll contact you if he did,” Tony said. Then he looked down at the floor and traced a pattern in the floor with his shoe. “If you could tell Steve, I wish I could take back what I did – that – that would be great.” Then Tony left.

Bucky slapped Sam on his arm. “I hate it when you’re all reasonable and mature.”

Sam rubbed the sore spot. “Bucky, if Tony can recover that footage, it will help Steve. And everything else? That’s between Steve and Tony.”

“He’s our friend – if he has lousy taste in men and picks the worst boyfriends, we have to save him from himself,” Bucky said.

“I know, Bucky. But Steve’s an adult. If it all goes badly, we take him out to a bar and buy him beer and be his friend. That’s what we do.” Sam had a thoughtful look. “And, Tony’s not worth going to jail over.”

Bucky snorted. “Right. You can say that again.”

 

Sam and Leila brought Steve back from the hospital and set him up in up a makeshift guest room. Once Steve was settled in the futon bed, Leila smothered him in blankets and extra pillows. “Thanks, guys,” Steve said with obvious gratitude. He laid back heavily into the pillows. Sam set down the bag of get well cards and the gift bag of art supplies in a corner.

“You take it easy, now,” Leila said. “You’ll be fine on your own, Sam?” she asked. “I’ve got to go to work.”

Giving her a goodbye kiss, Sam said, “We’re fine. Bucky and Nat are bringing dinner over later.” Sam pulled up a chair to sit next to Steve. 

Steve grumbled, “This is driving me crazy. I’m okay.”

“We both heard the doctors. They suggested a few days rest. You could use it.” Sam chuckled. “Bucky’s going to yell at you about selling off your furniture and not telling us.”

Steve grimaced. “It’s not a big deal – I just wanted to be safe financially. And I didn’t tell you guys, because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You lost that battle when we became friends,” Sam replied fondly. “We’ll always worry. But we need to talk about what happens next, if you’re up for it. You have medical bills –“

“Those are paid off,” Steve interrupted. “Along with any bills for follow-up care.”

“What?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth turned up. “Tony. He paid for everything. The hospital told me it was a charity that paid. But he was there at the hospital. He came to see me. You can connect the dots.”

Putting his fist under his chin, Sam looked thoughtful. “Tony came by the shop this morning and offered to help.”

“He brought me that bag of art supplies,” Steve added. “I think he’s trying …”

“Seriously, Steve, are you up for this right now? You look gray around the edges. And I’ve fielded some calls from the police, your landlord, and the insurance agent.”

“The police talked to me late yesterday.” Steve was fading. “Fury wants to see me as soon as I’m on my feet ...”

“You get some sleep now. I’ll get you when Bucky gets here,” Sam said gently as he got up. He looked over at the art supplies. Tony had dropped some big money to buy that present.

In addition to Vietnamese take-out, Bucky brought over some of Steve’s clothes and personal items from his apartment. Nat contributed some new sweats and t-shirts. “I figure you might like something new,” she said as Steve thanked her for the clothes.

Bucky gave Steve grief over everything. “You sold everything and you didn’t tell us? We could have helped.”

“I have stuff in a storage unit,” Steve said in his defense. “Stuff I couldn’t sell, but also my books, that easel, and some of my mom’s things. I wasn’t sticking those things in the basement – it gets wet down there sometimes.” He yawned and reached for more food from the coffee table. 

Curled up on the couch next to Bucky, who had his arm around her, Nat said, “There isn’t much left to the shop, Steve.”

He nodded. “I guessed as much before the police told me. I’m supposed to meet with an arson investigator with the fire department later this week.”

Sam handed his phone over to Steve. He flipped through the pictures of the shop with police crime scene tape and covered all over with orange evidence markers. “Hmmm, whoever caused the fire could have been caught on those cameras Tony installed. I could pull up that footage –“ He started up from his seat. Then Sam pushed him down.

Nat pointed out, “Tony said he would do that.”

“Tony? Did he come to the shop?” Steve asked. First the gift, then the bills and now he had stopped by the shop? Well, Steve’s mom always did say that actions spoke louder than words.

“Him and a dozen other people,” Bucky muttered. “The Riveras say hello. They’re fine, and they hope you’re doing fine.”

“I’m glad for that. They dropped off a card this morning.” The kids had drawn him a large get well card in multi-colored crayon covered in sparkly stickers. It was the best card of all of the ones he got. “Anyone else come by?”

Nat ticked off the visitors, “Bruce, Jan and Hank, Peter, the police, the firefighters, Fury and a couple of detectives, your landlord, Tony, all your neighbors – they wanted to know how you were doing – some of the regulars. That’s all.” She paused. “Did you think that Schmidt would drop in?”

The room suddenly got deadly quiet. Then Steve said, “Schmidt left a get well card at the nurse’s station just before I got discharged. He wrote it was such a shame that I was now out of business.”

Sam jumped up to get the card from the pile in the guest room. He gave it to Bucky, who scowled at the plain card. “Wait, don’t rip it up – it might be evidence,” Nat cried, snatching it out of his hands. She studied it carefully.

“He is not putting me out of business,” Steve declared.

“How are you going to rebuild, Steve?” Bucky worried. “If you get reimbursement checks from the insurance, it will still take over six months to fix the damage in the shop, maybe even a year.”

“I know. But, I’ve thought it through. I have a lot of money saved up in my emergency fund for something like this. Even if I have to run a coffee cart until I can get another lease, I can keep Captain Coffee going. Schmidt is not going to run me out of business. I’ve come back after every attack and I’m not backing down now. Might be a couple of weeks, maybe a month, but Captain Coffee will be back. And sooner than anyone expects.

“Schmidt is not going to dictate to people what type of coffee they are going to drink, or buy, or where they have to go for coffee. He’s driven a lot of independent coffee shops out of business, but we are not budging, not giving in or selling out. This is just a small setback for us. We have the drive, the desire, the ideas and the coffee to keep growing and thriving. Captain Coffee will be back and be better than ever,” Steve vowed.

His friends looked at each other. Taking a deep breath, Bucky said, “We’re with you Steve. But what do you have planned?”

Steve bit his lip and shifted slightly. “I have some ideas about the next steps. But I need to meet with the insurance agent and my landlord first. Then it will be clearer what to do next.”

Sam’s phone rang, breaking the mood. Sam rushed over to the kitchen counter where he had left it. “Uh, Steve, it’s for you,” he said, handing the phone over to Steve. Steve got up to take the call in another room.

When he returned to the living room, his friends were debating what movie to watch. “So? Who was that?” Nat asked.

“It was Abraham Erskine, the guy who owns the restaurant around the corner from the shop,” Steve said, puzzled. “He wants to meet me as soon as I’m able. He wants to talk, but said he’d tell me more in person.”

“Maybe it’s about Schmidt? He could have seen something,” Bucky commented.

Steve nodded. “He seems eager to meet me. So we’re meeting tomorrow.”

Sam snapped, “Steve! You just got out of the hospital.”

“It’s better this way, Sam. I’ll just be miserable until I can start working on solving my problems. But I promise, no 10 mile runs for a week,” Steve said cheerfully.

 

Later that night, after Bucky and Nat left, Steve was reading the get well cards in bed. He kept coming back to Tony’s card. He rubbed his thumb up and down the cardstock, wondering if maybe Tony was opening a door for him. 

Sam checked in on him. “Okay there, Steve? Need anything?”

“I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Sam’s sharp eyes noticed the name on the card. “About Tony?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. He put the card down. 

“Even after everything, you’re still hung up on him?” Sam asked gently.

Steve shook his head. “You reminded me that he’s a mess, even at the best of times. I’ve been rethinking about what happened after Jan’s party, and I think I should talk to Tony. He might have reasons for what happened, despite how much he hurt me. I still feel hurt, but I don’t have the time or energy to stay angry.”

Sam looked torn, but then, after a short struggle, said, “At the shop this morning, Tony said that he wished he could take back what he did.”

“Oh. I see.” Steve tipped his head back into the pillows. Tony had thrown the ball back into his court. “I guess we need to talk. Clear the air. Maybe we’ll work things out, or not – just have to see where it goes. I know what I want to do about the coffee shop, but not Tony. Not at all.”

“Tony’s been doing a lot for you, Steve, but personally? I’d hold out for a new StarkPhone if I were you,” Sam suggested with a wink.


	16. New Plans

Bruce walked through the kitchen in Erskine’s restaurant checking each piece of equipment as if he were in a candy store. He turned to Steve. “Is this for real?”

Leaning against a prep counter, Steve replied, “Yes, I’m going to sign the papers tomorrow for the lease on the restaurant.” 

That morning Erskine surprised Steve at their meeting by bringing his landlord. But it made sense once Erskine explained that he had finally decided to retire. He offered to transfer his lease to Steve because it was clear that Steve couldn’t open for business for nearly a year. Steve jumped immediately at the opportunity.

“We could sell cakes, Steve,” Bruce said excitedly. “Beautiful decorated cakes with fondant. And cake pops and cupcakes. Real bakery items.” 

“That’s what I was thinking too,” Steve agreed.

“I’ve been renting space at a commercial kitchen. Now I can give that up and just work from here,” Bruce mentioned. He frowned. “I’d like to bring in some different ovens. And maybe a couple of other pieces of equipment.”

“We can talk about that. Erskine is transferring the lease, but not all of the restaurant’s assets. He’s leaving the kitchen equipment. But, I’m going to have to outfit the space for the coffee business.”

Rubbing his hands in glee, Bruce was already developing extensive plans for his kitchen. “We can do catering. And I won’t have to drive that van anymore.”

Steve laughed. “All in good time, Bruce, all in good time. We do have to get up and running as a coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to change the name,” Bruce pointed out.

Steve nodded. “That’s the easy part. Captain Coffee Café and Bakery.” He showed Bruce new Captain Coffee sketches he made on napkins from the meeting with Erskine.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s works, it’s perfect!” Bruce said. “When can I start bringing over my stock and supplies?”

Later, Steve stood in the middle of the dining room as the staff got the place ready for one of the last dinner services. If Bruce was excited by the kitchen, Steve was more excited by what he could do with this room. He was already sketching out in his mind how he would set up the counter and where the service areas would go. He would need to do just a little touch-up on the wall paint but he planned to play up the wonderful architectural features. He couldn’t wait to open up the new version of Captain Coffee.

 

Despite the great news, Steve still found it painful to be in the old coffee shop. The landlord had someone come by and cover over the broken windows and doors with plywood. Steve had loved looking out of those windows at the busy street. And now he couldn’t see anything. He didn’t like how dark the place was until he turned on the florescent lights, which bathed the debris of his tables, couches and chairs in a harsh light. Then he felt saddened seeing everything he had built soot- covered and ruined. 

Sitting on the floor, Steve sorted through a collection of coffee mugs, surviving silverware, and utensils. On one side was a pile of reusable mugs and silverware, the other was the items going to the trash. He wished the reusable pile was larger. Every little bit though saved him money. He had a lot to look forward to with the relocation to Erskine’s restaurant.

He was interrupted by persistent knocking on the plywood door. He couldn’t see who was at the door until he opened it and was surprised to see a downcast and worried Tony.

“Can I come in?” Tony asked cautiously. He was in jeans and layered t-shirts, his hair stylishly wild. But his eyes were rimmed with red and his face pale. 

Steve slumped a little against the plywood. He took a deep breath. God, it was Tony. Real and breathing in front of him. And Tony definitely looked worse for wear. 

Tony broke into his thoughts. “Look, if this is a bad time or something, I could come back later –“ he said haltingly.

Steve stared a minute more, feeling the weight of the meeting. Now or never, Rogers, he thought. “No, it’s fine,” he said, indicating with a head tilt for Tony to come in.

After taking a few steps into the shop, Tony craned his head around to take in the damage. “It looks, um, better, I guess, than when I was here the other day.”

“I’ve been trying to see if I can recover anything from the fire,” Steve said. “There’s a dumpster in the alleyway where I’ve been tossing the trash and broken things.”

Tony pursed his lips and stared at the floor silently. “I don’t know where to start, Steve. I kind of messed things up the last time I saw you.”

“That’s an understatement.” Something about Tony was tugging at Steve and he wasn’t sure he wanted to encourage the urge to hug him.

Tony combed his fingers through his hair. “God, I don’t know where to start or what to say. I mean, I should probably be on my knees right now begging your forgiveness or something. I know I should, but whatever is on the floor would get into my jeans. I don’t want that. And there’s something creepy about standing around in this place. It’s so dark.”

Steve groaned and put his hand over his face. “Tony!”

“Right – wrong thing to say. I worked out this big speech and everything yesterday. But you know me – spontaneous – and I decided to wing it.” Tony sighed. “So, after the party? I woke up and there you were. You know you’re beautiful while you sleep? Even when you drool a little and then there’s your adorable snore –“

“Tony.”

“Right. You were there, and I was there. I mean, you were really there, not just in my imagination or memory. And I – well – I freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” Steve asked dubiously.

“You know, just panicked. I didn’t go to the party thinking I was going to have sex with you and that was the last thing on my mind that night – you looked amazing that night – but that wasn’t the plan, Steve, then you just looked at me and I couldn’t resist. But there I was in bed with you, and I was horrified that I had slept with – no, wait, that’s not what I meant, you’re great in the sack – but it wasn’t the right time. And I didn’t know what you thought about me – I couldn’t get a good read on you – and I just kind of assumed that you’d be angry with me. Then I’d never have a shot with you ever again. So I made sure that you wouldn’t have anything to do with me again.”

“Tony.”

“Please, Steve, you have no idea how miserable I’ve been over you – not just after the party – but ever since I broke up with you five years ago. I’ve hated you but then was desperate to see you. You’re not online anywhere and it’s not like I hired a detective to track you down or anything –“

“Tony, shut up,” Steve said.

“Oh, okay,” Tony said, deflating and collapsing in on himself. He looked up at Steve. “I understand, I’ll just go –“

“Come here,” Steve commanded. He grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him into his arms. Tony’s head slotted into that familiar place at the base of Steve’s neck. Steve just hugged him, melting against Tony, his face buried in Tony’s hair. “Sometimes you just talk too much,” he whispered. 

They stood there in each other’s arms for a long time, lost to the world. Steve drew in Tony’s warmth, his fingers wandering up to that spot on Tony’s neck where his hair started to curl. Tony shifted and sighed into his shoulder. Finally, Steve broke their embrace and pulled back. A slight smile played on his lips as he looked down into the depths of Tony’s eyes. “I don’t think you’ve ever been that quiet that long.” Then Steve lifted his chin and pressed his lips to Tony’s. He leaned his forehead on Tony’s. “We have to talk.”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” He laced his fingers into Steve’s. “But not here. There’s nowhere to sit.”

Steve dropped Tony’s hand. “I know a place around the corner.”

 

Tony examined Erskine’s restaurant as they sat waiting for the waitress. The restaurant was full of balloons and streamers. “So what’s up with the festive decorations?”

“The owner is retiring,” Steve said. “This is the last weekend they’re open. On Sunday Abraham is throwing a farewell party for the neighborhood.” He studied the menu.

Over drinks, Tony apologized best he could for what happened after Janet’s party. Finally Steve asked Tony to let it go because he understood why Tony had panicked. “I just wish you hadn’t done that,” Steve admitted. “And just don’t do it again.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Tony swore. 

Steve buttered a roll thoughtfully. He glanced up at Tony’s expectant face. “The real question is why did you break up with me five years ago?”

“Oh, about that – I don’t know where to start,” Tony confessed. “There were a lot of stupid, cowardly reasons. Made sense at the time. Sound ridiculous now.” He told Steve the whole messy story, holding nothing back, even Tony’s worst decisions. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Steve felt gutted. “Wow. If I knew what Stane was like, I would have been angry. I would have insisted you come back home.”

“What if instead I had asked you to come to Malibu?” Tony ventured.

“I would have moved in a heartbeat.”

“See, and I was afraid you wouldn’t,” Tony reflected. “I assumed I knew what the answers were before I ever asked the questions. So I didn’t ask when I didn’t want to hear the answers. Guess that was a big part of the problem.”

The waitress set their entrees down on the table. Steve pushed his food around his plate. “If you were doing well in California, why did you come back to New York?”

Tony looked out the window. “I needed a new start. I – um—had a little issue.”

“Little issue?”

“Remember that heart murmur I had? It got worse.” Tony told Steve about his open heart surgery and his stay in the hospital, including his awful roommate. “So there I was alone in the hospital and feeling sorry for myself. That’s when it hit me that if I hadn’t treated you so badly, you’d be there for me.”

“Is that when you called me?” Steve asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I called. I was surprised that you still had the same phone number …”

Steve thought back on Tony’s message. “I kept it,” he admitted shyly. “I was glad to hear your voice.”

Tony gripped his hand. “Why didn’t you call back?” 

“I was still angry with you – the conversation wouldn’t have gone well.”

“Okay. I can understand. I wanted to know how you were doing and then when I saw you, everything came back to me. I wanted to know if you could love me again,” Tony explained.

“Maybe I could,” Steve offered. “We were good together for a long time.”

“We were. We could be again.”

Talking about the last five years, they lingered over coffee and dessert. Tony said hopefully, “I guess this means dinner went well?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, it did.” He picked up Tony’s hand between his two hands. “But we’ve got a lot to still work out.”

“I suppose we do,” Tony admitted. “I owe you –“

Steve shook his head. “It’s more than that. When the chips are down, it has to be us against the world,” Steve said. “Not just a partnership of convenience. Not leaving a man behind.”

“You and me against the world,” Tony replied.

“Us.”

Tony scrutinized Steve’s serious face. He agreed, “Us.”

“We have to work on it. Together.”

Tony nodded. “So. What happens next?”

“I don’t know. We take it day by day,” Steve admitted. He finished his coffee. “But I haven’t told you about Schmidt and the coffee shop.”

Tony perked up. “And I have some things to tell you about Schmidt, too.” He called over the waitress and ordered another round of coffee. “So tell me what you have planned.”


	17. The Final Confrontation

Steve had not heard from Schmidt since the get-well card at the hospital. He knew Schmidt was probably under the impression he had won. Steve’s old landlord hung a large “For Rent” sign on the plywood still covering the windows and door of the old coffee shop. Steve thought he saw Schmidt briefly watching them from his car as they took down the Captain Coffee sign. To people not in the know, it did look like Steve was out of business. But it was all part of Steve’s plan to handle Schmidt.

He just needed a month of peace to get his new coffee shop into order. Once Erskine vacated the restaurant, Steve immediately began his renovations of the space. For safety’s sake, he covered the windows and put up vague signs indicating a new business moving in. Then, after the grand reopening, Steve would be ready for Schmidt.

Everyone pitched in to help set up the new space. Clint, Bucky and Sam handled the furniture delivery and Steve directed where the tables, couches and chairs would go. He even put a table and armchair for Tony near the counter. Nat spearheaded the organization of the main counter, coffee work areas, and the service stations, with Jan lending a hand. Tony, of course, installed the computer systems, including surveillance cameras discreetly tucked away from obvious view. Bruce scrubbed the kitchen equipment, stocked his pantry and tested out new pastry and baked good recipes on the grateful workers. The only thing that Steve did not directly oversee was Clint teaching Peter how to paint walls and trim. Steve rolled his eyes as he listened to Steve and Pete quip their way through their not-even-close-to-professional painting sessions.

After an intense month of preparation, Steve advertised the date for the grand reopening. Steve worked with Bruce and Jan on grand reopening specials and the new menu. Jan jumped into planning for the festivities. She had a definite vision for activities and contests for the opening, playing on the retro Americana theme Steve used to decorate the shop. She and Nat lobbied for selling t-shirts, coffee mugs and other items emblazoned with the new Captain Coffee logo. Nat even suggested that he change up the t-shirt designs every other month. When Steve mentioned that he had not been able to sell that stuff before, Jan pointed out that he had not picked fashionable t-shirts with colors and styles people would buy. 

Then, all of a sudden, they were done. Steve stood with Tony in the gleaming, brand-new coffee shop feeling grateful to his friends for their help and pride in the finished product. The shop was not quite the way Steve wanted it yet, but it would take time to draw and paint the art he wanted on the walls. Tony put his arms around Steve’s waist and his chin on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Happy?” he asked in his ear.

Steve’s heartbeat fluttered at Tony’s warmth on his back and hands on his hips. “I’ll be happier when I don’t have to worry about Schmidt.”

“Everything is in place. Wheels within wheels,” Tony said encouragingly. “Let me take you out for a celebratory dinner.”

As he locked up, Steve looked up at the new sign over the door. He had high hopes for the opening and could not help but smile. Tony nudged him. “You did great with the sign.”

“That was the hardest part. Picking the font and incorporating the old logo.” He put his arms around Tony, pulling him close, and lifted his chin to look into Tony’s copper-flecked brown eyes. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. His fingers lingered along Tony’s jaw as he thought briefly of a future with him. Then he kissed Tony.

“Couldn’t do any less. Let’s go – I’m hungry.”

 

The plan to stop Schmidt was simple, but depended entirely on Steve. 

Steve and Tony, along with Tony’s lead accountant and lawyer, met with Fury and his detectives to share what Tony’s people had found about Schmidt. At the meeting they laid out all the evidence they had. The conference room table was covered with documentation, photos, thick case files, and spreadsheets. Fury stood in front of the whiteboard and took down notes as each person explained their evidence.

Detective Hill laid out the facts of related cases. Schmidt drove other independent coffee shops, cafés and bakeries out of business, and then installed an Imperial Coffee store in place of the old business. The detectives couldn’t prove Schmidt acted against the law, but Schmidt’s whole operation stunk to high heaven. She also had leads on the people Schmidt likely hired to carry out the vandalism and harassment.

Tony’s lead accountant explained what the accounting team had found. They had approached Schmidt as if Tony was interested in investing in the company and received financial information about Imperial Coffee. They also researched company filings, tracing Schmidt’s twisty financial trail through a series of private equity holdings, shell companies, offshore bank accounts, and grey market investments. On the surface, it appeared that Imperial Coffee made a little profit, and that Schmidt was not drawing a salary and was putting money into the company. But the accountants also discovered that it was more likely that Schmidt was siphoning money from the company to hidden bank accounts. The lawyer showed a PowerPoint presentation listing the shell companies and limited liability corporations Schmidt had financial ties to.

Hill interrupted. “Wait, go back a slide. Look at that name – Rumlow. We’ve been working some leads based on the camera footage from Steve’s shop that a Brock Rumlow was involved in the Captain Coffee arson and was likely involved in the earlier vandalism incidents.” She pulled up their files on Rumlow. “He’s a known career criminal.”

Tony pointed out, “He’s listed as an owner of one of the shell companies Schmidt has connections to. We have no idea what that company does. It’s a good way to launder money. Or conceal payments for Schmidt’s dirty work.”

Hill was furiously taking notes. “Good work, Stark,” she admitted. 

“But why would Schmidt go to all this trouble? Imperial Coffee is a legitimate business,” Fury mused. “Nothing is adding up here.”

Everyone at the table grew quiet and thoughtful. After minutes of silence, Steve spoke first. “Schmidt’s threatened by competition from other coffee shops. He wants to dominate the coffee market in the city and is so determined to be the only coffee place in town, he’ll take out every coffee shop in his path.” Steve then described what Bucky and Nat had found when they visited Imperial Coffee. “My friends went to other Imperial Coffee shops, and they are all exactly the same. I think he knows his coffee is mediocre, but doesn’t care, because he is finding a way to force customers to go to his shops. After he is done eliminating the competition, they won’t have any other choice but to go there, even if they don’t much care for the coffee.”

“That’s a lot of work, and he’s not showing that much profit –“ Hill started.

Steve interrupted. “Not yet. True, small businesses run on tight margins. And he’s plowing money back into the business to grow it both legally and illegally. But if Schmidt can establish a chain with no competition, he’ll be able to raise prices and generate a ton of profit. It’s the long game, and Schmidt is being methodical about his targets and planning.”

Fury grunted. “But how can we prove all this?” he asked with a sweeping motion. “Right now I can come up with a dozen charges – mostly misdemeanors, a couple of felonies – but those charges won’t touch Schmidt at all. And it’s not going to stop him – I’ve got to prove racketeering.”

Tony said, “Wait – what about the coffee suppliers? He leans on them to raise prices –“

“I’ll get right on it,” Hill stated. “I’ll have a team work on interviewing vendors for conspiracy and extortion and anything else I can find.”

Fury continued, “We have to tie Schmidt directly to actually threatening people to sell or else he’ll claim that Rumlow is a rogue agent not acting on his behalf.”

Steve offered, “Schmidt will find out that I’m reopening the business soon enough. Maybe I could wear a wire and record our conversations. ”

Hill and Fury exchanged concerned looks. “Let’s go with that – it’s our best shot at getting direct evidence on Schmidt,” Fury conceded.

 

A week after the wildly successful grand opening of Captain Coffee Café and Bakery, Steve had noticed Schmidt lingering once or twice outside the shop, as if deciding whether to come in or not. He wondered if Schmidt was casing the shop for weaknesses. 

On Friday afternoon, he and Sam sat up front in the shop near a front window having coffee and Bruce’s latest cookie confection. Always observant, Sam noted that Schmidt had driven around the block three times and was now parked across the street. “I wish he would just make up his mind and come in here. Then we could get this whole thing over with.”

Steve nodded. He studied the handful of customers in the dining room – he recognized nearly all of them and there were a couple of new faces. Nothing out of the ordinary. Jess and Carol were home for the weekend and occupying one couch and reading through magazines together. Jane, for once without Thor, was assembling packets of paper on one table. Nat was helping Bucky study for his Russian test by reading off questions from a prep sheet. Based on Nat’s laughter and the occasional frown, Bucky was not doing well. Jan was restocking cookies at the counter. Steve turned his head to examine the street. 

“Showtime,” Sam said, poking Steve and tipping his head. Schmidt, dressed in a black suit, was emerging from his car. He hesitated outside the door and then locked eyes with Steve. 

Steve prodded Sam. “You need to go.”

“Are you sure?” Sam said warily. 

“Yeah, go sit with Bucky. Schmidt won’t say anything if I have friends around.” Sam frowned and then got up. 

When Schmidt entered the store, Steve nodded to Jan, who immediately jumped to getting a coffee and bear claw for Schmidt. Schmidt walked right towards Steve. He stood at the table, waiting for Steve to acknowledge him. Steve hoped that the wire was working and that Fury was listening from where he was parked down the street. “Hello, Johann. Please sit.”

“Steven, I am amazed. I was not expecting to see you back in business at all, much less in a new location,” Schmidt opened as he sat down.

“I was lucky,” Steve offered. “Lots of community help and a good insurance agent.”

Jan brought over the coffee in a plain cup, determined that Schmidt did not deserve a cup with one of Steve’s doodles. Steve could tell it pained her not to say something to Schmidt. He suspected that she didn’t try hard to get the coffee order perfect or pick out the freshest looking pastry like she did for her favorite customers. Schmidt dismissed her curtly.

He tapped the side of his cup. “I will miss Erskine’s restaurant,” he said casually.

“Oh, I didn’t know you came here.”

“Once or twice.” Schmidt scrutinized the shop from the refinished wood floors to the fresh paint and the well-organized service counter. “Business is good, no?”

Steve smiled broadly. “Business is very good,” he said proudly. “This corner location is much better than my last one. We’re looking to add some outdoor seating soon as we get the furniture.”

Schmidt gave a brittle smile in return. “Outdoor eating – attracting the worst element and encouraging customers who won’t buy anything to sit at the tables. And there are those people who have water bowls out for dogs in the summer – so messy and unsanitary. Bah.” He shook his head.

Steve, who had always set out courtesy water bowls for pedestrians walking their dogs in the heat of the summer, was shocked. But he held his composure. “So what brings you to Captain Coffee today?”

“Just checking in. I only wish you well, Steven, as a fellow small business owner.” 

Steve did not at all like the possessive way Schmidt examined the shop. “Thank you,” he said neutrally. He held his breath, knowing how these conversations with Schmidt tended to go. He caught Bucky’s eyes as Bucky watched them intently.

“I feel bad for you, Steven, having had such bad luck these past few months. And then to spend time and money setting up this beautiful store. I would hate for something to happen to you again.”

“I’m confident the bad times are behind me. The regular customers are thrilled that we’re back and we’re offering more menu items.”

“Hmmm.” Schmidt leaned back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together. “Any new opening attracts customers, doesn’t mean that they come back,” he said with a slight shrug. “And sympathy only goes so far. I am prepared to offer you $75,000 for the business.”

Steve immediately stated, “No. My business is not for sale.”

Schmidt narrowed his eyes. “You really don’t want to do anything that you might regret, Rogers. Think about it.”

“I have given your proposal the amount of time it deserves, and even if I thought about it for hours, I would still say no.” Steve shifted in his seat. Being a large man who regularly worked out, he was not usually afraid of anyone. But there was something deeply unnerving about the increasingly agitated Schmidt. Steve wondered if Schmidt had a gun.

“You have no idea what could happen, Rogers. You’ve already had a fire. I understand you are also an artist, which means you have imagination. So much more could happen,” he hissed.

“Like what?” Steve countered. Bucky had moved over closer to their table and Sam went to stand with Jan at the counter. Steve hoped that the other customers would not notice the tension in the shop. He noticed that Nat was checking in with Jess and Carol and looking after the customers.

“I offer you some financial security. You’ve over-extended yourself, Steven, this place is bigger than your other location. You’ll need to add staff, more supplies, pay for more electricity. Did you even think of any of the additional costs? Consider all those people out of work when you have to declare bankruptcy.” Schmidt swept his arm, pointing to the shop. “Looks wonderful now, but you’ll wish that you sold out in three months.”

“No, we did very well at the last location and we’ll keep growing the business here.”

Schmidt sat up sharply. “You do not understand me at all!”

“You made an offer, I turned it down. I think we understand each perfectly well,” Steve said. He looked Schmidt straight in the eye.

Schmidt shifted angrily in his chair and banged his fist on the table. “You are so determined to be difficult, aren’t you? So stubborn and stuck in your ways,” he spat out. “Everyone else sold to me one way or the other. But you, you idiot, refuse my more than reasonable offer and ignore my warnings.” He jabbed his finger at Steve.

“It’s not reasonable, and I ask that you leave me and my staff in peace.” Steve was standing his ground, even though he suspected that he now seeing the real Schmidt under the veneer of urbane courteousness he usually had.

Schmidt sputtered. “You have no idea who you are dealing with. I will ruin you, Rogers, I will make you wish you had never been born. Why else do you think you’ve had these problems? Why do you think your shop was vandalized?”

“Were you behind the fire?” Steve asked innocently, knowing he was provoking Schmidt.

Schmidt lunged across the table and grabbed Steve’s shirt. “You will sell to me, Rogers. You will not stop my takeover of the coffee business in New York. You are a worthless, miserable little piece of garbage, and I will make you pay for delaying my plans.”

Steve pushed Schmidt away. “I have to ask you to leave now, Johann. Before I decide to press charges against you for assault.”

“Assault? Assault?” Schmidt sputtered. “How dare you. I am the better business man and I will win.”

“Not today. Please leave.” Steve hoped that this was enough for Fury and his detectives. Steve stood up meaningfully.

Now plainly angry, Schmidt stumbled to his feet. He appeared to pull himself together and adjusted his jacket. Steve began to turn towards the counter. Sensing Steve’s momentary inattention, Schmidt swung at him. Steve saw his arm just out of the corner of his eye and ducked in time to miss the punch. Schmidt then launched himself at Steve, who threw a single right cross and knocked Schmidt to the ground. Sam shouted, “Call the police,” as Bucky and Nat rushed over to hold Schmidt down.

Fury, detectives, and cops flooded the shop through the front door. Two police officers immediately pulled Schmidt up from the from the floor and began to read him his rights. They dragged him out of the shop to a waiting squad car. Fury patted Steve’s shoulder. “Good job, Rogers. I think we have enough to put him away for a long, long time.” After that, Fury retrieved the wire and transmitter, and they were all gone.

Still a little stunned at how quickly everything had gone down, Steve brushed off his clothes. He went to each customer, apologized for upsetting them, offered coupons for free coffee. Everyone understood and wished him well. By the time he made it over to where Bucky, Sam and Nat were sitting, Jan had a large coffee ready, made just the way he liked. Bucky and Sam patted him on the back as he settled down on the couch.

Bucky whooped, “You should have seen yourself, Steve, you punched him and he wasn’t expecting you to fight back at all.”

“Good job,” Sam said admiringly.

Steve settled his nerves with a sesame seed bagel and cream cheese. “I didn’t think that Schmidt was like that at all.” They talked a little more about what happened.

Then Jan suggested, “How about a party, Steve? Let’s celebrate now that Schmidt is out of the picture.”

Steve thought for a minute. “Yeah, we could do that.” He smiled and nodded. “That sounds like the perfect thing.”

“It could be the First Annual Captain Coffee Café and Bakery Party here at the shop,” Jan exclaimed. “Let me tell you some of my ideas.”

Steve smiled and laughed with the rest of them as Jan and Bucky started planning a huge blowout party. A little while later, he told Sam he needed to step in the back and make a few calls. Steve wanted to share the news with Tony and maybe make some special plans of their own, besides going out with Bucky, Nat and Sam that night to celebrate. Things were definitely getting better.


	18. Reward

On a beautiful, sunny summer Sunday morning, Steve stopped by the shop to pick up coffee and breakfast after his trip to the gym. Clint, who was now an assistant manager, was helping Kate, a new staff member, on the register. “Hey, Steve,” he said as he briefly looked up from the register. “Bruce has blueberry muffins in the back.”

“Great. How are things, Kate?” Steve said.

The dark-haired teenager nodded. “Clint put me on the register this morning. I’m working my way up to coffee.”

“Good. I’ll see you Tuesday afternoon and we’ll talk coffee. See you at the party tonight, Clint.” Steve was looking forward to the party with all his friends and staff celebrating the first anniversary of the new shop. Or as Jan called it – the Second Annual Captain Coffee Café and Bakery Party.

“You bet.”

As Steve entered the kitchen, Bruce was taking muffin pans out of the oven. Steve breathed in the warm, spicy scent of apple-cinnamon muffins. “Did you see the shop? It’s crowded out there,” Bruce observed.

Steve searched for a paper bag. “It’s terrific how well we’re doing here after opening up last year.” He started to bag up blueberry muffins and sesame seed bagels. He also checked the shift schedule. It still amazed him how many employees were now working at the shop. Peter was on for the afternoon and would be responsible for closing the shop before the party. 

“Will you be around this week?” Bruce asked.

Steve took out his phone to check his personal schedule. The one downside to the past year had been being on call to testify in Schmidt and Rumlow’s trails. The week before, Schmidt had finally been sentenced to more than twenty-five years in prison for racketeering, extortion and dozens of other charges. “No, looks like I’m done with the prosecutor’s office.”

“I know you’re off today – but let’s talk brownies tomorrow. And I want to go over the cake and cupcake orders for the week,” Bruce said. He was still in love with his kitchen, especially after Steve bought him a new oven recently. 

“Alright. I’d like to set up the specials for the week and Wednesday we’re doing that charity fundraiser. Will you be at the party tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus I’m bringing the anniversary cake.” 

Steve grinned. Nat and Bucky had designed the cake and were refusing to tell him what it looked it. Actually, the cake was the only thing that Jan allowed anyone not named Jan to do for the party. She had asked for an hour to decorate the shop for the party, and no one but her and Hank were allowed in. When Steve asked her about the decorations, she had teased him. “It’s called a surprise, Steve.”

“I’m not a fan of surprises,” he replied honestly.

“You’ll love this surprise,” she said.

As Steve passed through the dining room on his way home, he stopped to take in the busy shop crowded with customers. He loved the low buzz of people talking and working that filled the air. On a side wall near the counter, staff had proudly hung framed, glowing restaurant reviews from the Daily Bugle and other papers. There was a growing line at the register as Clint and Kate handled the orders. He turned to go before he was tempted to jump in and help. But he was wanted elsewhere.

He briskly walked the few streets over to the brownstone he now called home. He waved to his neighbors as he unlocked the front door and exchanged the usual pleasantries about the beautiful morning. Once inside, he noted how unusually quiet the house was, which meant that Tony was sound asleep or buried in work in his office/workshop on the third floor.

Steve walked through the living room on his way upstairs. Tony had managed to fit his modern furniture into the three-story townhome. It was a compromise when they bought the place – Steve got to live in Brooklyn and Tony kept his beloved modern furniture. They had moved in four months ago, and Steve had finally hung up the pictures in this room the week before. Steve glanced at the framed photostrip from their first anniversary, which had pride of place on a living room wall. Tony had kissed him soundly when he saw Steve hang it.

Now on the second floor, Steve checked his studio space set up in a spare bedroom. He was still debating if he was going to work on the painting on the easel or pack up a few sketchbooks and head out to a park. The easel that Tony had given him years ago fit perfectly in this room, as if it had always been there. 

Steve had not at all regretted the long-considered decision to move in with Tony again and restart their interrupted life. The past year had been spent learning to compromise, argue and talk with Tony. They still had their ups and downs like everyone else in a relationship. It hadn’t been a bed of roses, but they worked on it constantly. Nothing worthwhile ever came easy. The best times always outweighed the bad, and they had best times in abundance.

The bedroom door was shut so Steve carefully opened it and snuck in. Light streaming around the edges of the blinds covering the windows outlined a blanket-covered lump in the bed. The lump shifted and then groaned. “Is that coffee I smell?” 

“Fresh from the shop, and muffins too,” Steve said fondly. He put the coffee and bag down on Tony’s bedside table. 

Still curled up in the sheets, Tony propped himself up to sip the coffee. “Oh, ack, stop,” he protested as Steve opened up the blinds, flooding the room with mid-morning light. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

Steve flopped down on the bed next to Tony. “The way you complain about light I wonder sometimes if you are a vampire,” Steve teased, squeezing Tony’s knee.

Tony muttered, “A coffee vampire. That’s what I am.” 

Steve leaned in and kissed Tony’s forehead. “How do coffee vampires survive?”

“They seduce unsuspecting coffee shop owners into bringing them coffee.” Tony put down his cup on the table and turned towards Steve. He ran his fingers up Steve’s chest. “It’d be better, you know, if you had coffee running in your veins.”

Steve flicked the sheets off Tony to pull him closer. He lazily kissed Tony’s face and neck, resting his hand on Tony’s bare waist. “Why?” He rubbed circles into Tony’s skin with his thumb.

“All my vampire nutritional needs would be filled that way,” Tony said, increasingly distracted by Steve nuzzling his neck and shoulder. “If this is going where I’m hoping this is going, you have entirely too many clothes on.”

“Going to fix that for me?” Steve challenged Tony.

“Good thing you’re cute enough to make me forget my coffee and blueberry muffin, mister,” Tony replied. He slid his hands under Steve’s t-shirt. “Hmmm, you smell wonderful,” Tony murmured. 

“Showered at the gym,” Steve admitted. He combed his hand through Tony’s thick brown hair and kissed the tip of his nose. Then he shifted so that Tony could continue to push the shirt off.

Accomplishing step one, Tony hooked his thumb in the waistband of Steve’s workout pants and tugged. “These aren’t coming off,” he complained. 

“You’re a smart boy, you can do it.” Steve wiggled his hips. But he ended up helping Tony peel off his pants and underwear.

The morning sunlight warmed Steve’s back as he rolled Tony over on the bed, pinning him underneath him. Putting his elbows at the side of Tony’s head, he bent down and kissed Tony deeply and passionately. Breaking off, Steve whispered, “You know what would make this better?”

“Hmmm, can’t imagine,” Tony replied.

“Opening a window for fresh air.” Steve brushed his lips down Tony’s neck and shoulders. He wanted to take his time this morning, worshipping Tony’s body. He adored Tony so much and he loved how Tony was looking at him.

“No – you’ve already opened the blinds. Spare me your need for cold air.”

Steve swatted at Tony, who surprisingly pushed and rolled Steve onto his back. He straddled Steve and began to suck bruises into his chest. “Once I’m done with you, you’ll have to wear a dark t-shirt at the party tonight,” Tony promised.

Getting lost in the wonderful friction of Tony’s body against his, Steve thought of how lucky they both ended up. He never wanted to be somewhere else other than here, listening to Tony complain about having to do the laundry again. Just hearing Tony’s voice thrilled him, a light touch could still send a shiver up his spine. He bucked up against Tony, feeling desire and heat sweep over his body as Tony caressed his body with his hands and lips. 

“Have I told you lately that I love you,” Tony gasped as Steve’s hand found that special spot on his hip. 

“Pretty loudly last night,” Steve teased. “And often.”

Tony began to circle his hips, drawing a low moan from Steve as their hardening cocks rubbed against each other. Steve looked into Tony’s copper-flecked brown eyes as Tony moved one of Steve’s hands to grope his ass. “I have plans for you tonight,” Tony said.

“Oh, I had a plan for us this morning,” Steve retorted.

“Not like my plans,” Tony promised. He leaned over Steve and licked his chest slowly, paying special attention to teasing Steve’s nipples. 

“Anything like my plan?” Steve growled. He was starting to want, to get more friction, to hear Tony moan his name, to get anything.

Tony laughed. “The objective is the same, I bet, but the route is different. I could paint a picture for you.”

“I – I – don’t think I need to imagine,” Steve stuttered. Tony was grinding harder against him. It was getting difficult to think of anything but Tony’s lithe and beautiful body against his. 

Steve whined as Tony leaned away from him. “I never thought I’d see you needy,” Tony said as he reached for something on the nightstand. He suddenly looked confused. “Where’s the lube?”

“On my side. We left it there last night,” Steve suggested.

“Found it,” Tony said rolling over to Steve’s side of the bed. He threatened, “If I had to go to the bathroom for it –“

“Then I would just have you in the shower,” Steve concluded.

Tony knelt on the bed and began to slick his fingers up, putting on a little show for Steve. “You’d push me against the wall. Kiss me into oblivion. Have your way with me.” He reached behind to open himself up. “I find that idea incredibly hot,” he said in a low, seductive tone.

Steve’s cock twitched and felt heavy and hard. Tony then ran a slick hand up and down Steve’s cock. “We could do that. Or I could suck you off in your office during the party tonight.” Steve moaned with Tony’s stroking.

Then Tony straddled Steve again and lowered himself down. “I would just pull you aside, saying that I wanted to show you something.”

“No one would believe you,” Steve choked out. He put one hand on Tony’s sharp hip and with the other began to slowly stroke Tony.

Rocking against Steve, Tony bottomed out. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll pull into you into your office and push you against the wall, yank down your pants. Not gently.” He circled and rocked his hips. Steve set a rhythm thrusting into Tony. He loved how wild Tony looked, with his irises blown black, his lips wet and red, and the sweat breaking out along his collarbone. “Take your cock in my mouth.” 

Steve could barely hear Tony as he got closer to the edge. He stroked Tony harder, finally reducing Tony to gasps and moans and the occasional swear. They rocked together, increasing the friction, and working each other harder, until Steve came with a shout. Tony put his hand over Steve’s to stroke himself until he followed Steve over the edge.

Tony then collapsed next to Steve on the bed. Steve put his arm around Tony and they lay sated and entwined. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Tony asked huskily.

“I think I’ll stay in and paint. I’d like to finish that piece sometime.” Steve brushed the hair out of Tony’s eyes. “Or I could stay here longer.”

“Sorry, baby, I have some work I have to finish upstairs,” Tony replied. He struggled to get up. “I thought you were planning to head out to a park for sketching this afternoon.” 

“Maybe, I could do that.”

“You’d really enjoy getting out and about in that fresh air you like so much.” Standing up, Tony bent over and kissed Steve. “I claim the shower first.” He bounded off to the bathroom.

Steve stretched out on the bed and reconsidered his plans for the day. Tony had been angling to get him out of the house for an afternoon during the past two weeks. He seriously doubted Tony had anything to do with the cake or any of the party preparations. Bucky had warmed a bit towards Tony over the last year, while Sam had been glad to go out on some couples dates. But Bucky had made it clear that it was Bucky’s cake for Steve, with Bruce’s help.

He didn’t like surprises, but he loved his friends enough to not spoil their plans. Steve had already guessed that for the party Bucky and Nat had designed some sort of red, white, and blue decorated cake with the Captain Coffee logo. And Jan was likely to coordinate the streamers and balloons and the banner Hank was going to hang from the ceiling. They all tried hard to not spoil the surprise, but Steve overheard their whispered plans at work and filled in the rest. 

Sated and lazy, Steve listened to Tony singing in the shower. He should get up and take a shower in the guest bathroom and get going on his plans for the day. He couldn’t find underwear in the usual drawer. Tony had put the laundry away last and probably just shoved everything in a drawer without sorting. Eventually he was going to have to give in and let Tony outsource the laundry. He rummaged through Tony’s bureau drawers looking for his underwear.

By accident he reached into Tony’s sock drawer and put his hand on a small black box tucked in the back. A spike of excitement shot through Steve. Maybe he would see the box make an appearance at the party. Or maybe before. That’s why Tony wanted him out of the house. Tony was clearly plotting something.

Filled with love for Tony and not wanting to ruin his plans, Steve put the drawer back into order so that box remained hidden. He opened the door. “Hey, Tony, I’m going out this afternoon. I’ll be back a couple of hours before we leave for the party,” he shouted over the sound of the water.

“Okay, see you then. Have fun, don’t get kidnapped by squirrels,” Tony shouted back.

Steve smiled, thinking of all that Tony meant to him. Tony had surprised him so many times since they met up again at Captain Coffee last year, and despite the pain and misery, it had all turned out better than he ever thought it could be. He could wait and let Tony surprise him one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. I've really appreciated the comments and kudos and your time reading my story. 
> 
> Big thanks to my beta for helping, especially with the rough spots.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Love in a Coffee Shop [Fanmix]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692712) by [Armsplutonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armsplutonic/pseuds/Armsplutonic)




End file.
